


Let Not The King

by JD_Riley



Series: Western A/B/O [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Bleeding Out, Breaking Celibacy Vows, Catholicism, Demonic Possession, Demons, Enemies to Lovers, Historical, Irish Catholic, M/M, MaleAlpha/MaleOmega, Minor Character Death, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Priest Kink, Prostitution, Religious Conflict, Self Defense, Sex With Minor Characters, Slow Burn, Western, a/b/o dynamics, minor character suicidal ideation, preaching, religious iconography
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Riley/pseuds/JD_Riley
Summary: Father Greyson McOnder has arrived in Bridgeton, a small logging town in the Utah Territory, to find that his quest to retake the church from a band of prostitutes led by the wicked Saul Winters has him suddenly mired in a deadly battle of wills between a savage industrialist and a shrewd soiled dove.  With the ghosts of his past reflected in the kisses of a cunning whore, Greyson will have to gather every bit of his faith to survive the Devil of Bridgeton along with the demons which threaten his own heart's desire.Update Schedule:Thursdays
Relationships: Greyson McOnder/Saul Winters
Series: Western A/B/O [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169114
Comments: 38
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

Greyson McOnder's whiskers were getting just a little too long for his liking by the time he rode into Bridgeton. They itched with his sweat and the black of his vestments was in no manner helpful to his journey as much of it was in the sun and over a wealth of rocky terrain. There were plenty of trees along the mountain paths and thankfully in the small village which boasted a strong lumber industry but the western sun was unforgiving despite and quite a few times, Greyson had removed his wide-brimmed black hat in order to fan himself with it. He rubbed at the growth upon his cheeks and his chin, lamenting that should he give his coin to the barber, he may have none for his lodgings. Such was the curse of a priest's poverty.

He had traveled mostly alone over the most unforgiving land he had ever known and still it could not compare to the harshest months of his life before. He found the open vastness of America's wilderness to be freeing even in its harshness and he woke to the sound of birdsong from his bedroll each morning and gave thanks for his blessing in survival. He had learned quickly how to subsist by foraging and finding small settlements which he marked on his map very carefully so he could find them again. When the sun came down in the western sky, sometimes he had not eaten his fill but he was alive and he could try again upon the sunrise. It was difficult but it was a far cry from his life in Ireland—his hard origin and the light of grace which had borne him from that world and into this one.

Greyson had made it to his destination. He thought that perhaps he had been sent merely due to his obvious attributes—he was an Alpha, after all, when most priests were slim and delicate Betas who may have found it much more difficult to survive their journey. Plenty of them had done so, surely, but the Church did not spare the expense of a guide for a town so lost as this one. Once before, he had known there was a priest in a mining town called Talton, but that particular settlement had disappeared quite suddenly and with it went the priest.

_These things happen in the dark places of the world._

This was a land in which the imagination could run rampant, twisting the fine lines of reality to form fantastical and horrific beasts in the night. A few evenings, after his fire had burned down to coals, he was awoken by odd sounds warbling through the darkness in nights untouched by the silver of the moon. Cries strangely human and, on one particular occasion, an event he would never forget—the too-close echoing bark of hysterical laughter which, sourceless, roamed the forest around him. Until dawn, he clutched at his bag of sparse provisions and kept the fire bright, hoping that the horse's apparent nervousness would not cause it to bolt and leave him stranded in the night. There were plenty of nights he had not slept for the strangeness that seemed to surround him, but for the grace of God, he had survived and he had not come face to face with the creatures or demons which called the west home.

Humans, of course, were to be his greatest challenge. Though there were Catholics in Bridgeton, there had not been a Catholic mass there since its inception and due to the disappearance of the man sent to Talton, there were no options for these good people to follow the orders of the Church. Catholics needed confession, they needed guidance. He was certainly not the most welcome sight, he knew, when he rode along the dusty main drag, his dark cassock and hat drawing the eyes of the folk around him as the novelty of a priest was not something seen everyday in a hard town like this. The first human he needed to charm was the one man who might help him establish himself in a place like this.

It was early evening when he was finally able to dismount, his legs feeling a bit like they might not hold him up for very long. He wrapped the bay's rein's around the hitching rail and rubbed her nose before he turned and took his hat off to go in, holding it in his hands and hoping that his unwashed and unshaven state might not offend the man whose aide he required. He needn't have worried, he thought, when he entered to find that very man with his boots upon this desk, laid back with his hat over his eyes and a fair bit of whisker on his own chin. He was snoozing soundly and did not seem at all bothered by the sound Greyson had made when he wandered in.

The spice and earth of the marshal who dozed was tempered by the scent of a sweet and daring Omega fragrance which was rare and enticing for an Alpha who had not smelled such a thing for the whole of his journey westward. Omegas were scarce in this part of the world and to smell one upon the marshal was a welcome surprise. Seeking not to startle the marshal overly, he tapped his fingers upon the desk which seemed to wake him easily and smoothly, his first motion to lift his hat from over his eyes.

“Good evenin', Marshal,” Greyson greeted, his voice rumbling and low and his effort to temper the lilt of his birthright forming a curious tone to his speech.

“Mmgh,” was the first reply, the other Alpha's boots thunking down hollowly over the boards below him. “Evening, Father...somethin' I can do for yeh?” His own voice seemed a product of the west, rasping as though enough dust had infiltrated his throat to permanently alter the sound of him. Enough grit could do that to a man, Greyson thought.

“I've only just arrived—sent from the east to lead this parish. I've no idea how many parishioners I might have here, but I do understand that there is a Church...I'm Father Greyson McOnder”

The marshal peered up at him for a second, his hat still in his hand before he stood up, blinking as if to discard the rest of his sleep from his mind. “United States Marshal Wyatt Embry. There was a Church, Padre...but the Reverend ain't much no more...”

“Oh? You've a Reverend? It does not surprise me to know you've got a Protestant here—does he hold regular service?”

The marshal stared at him for a few seconds before he sniffed out a little laugh and turned to move outside, holding the door open so that Greyson could follow him. When they were upon the small wooden porch together, he took his time to roll a cigarette before he lit it with a match. “The Rev ain't much of a Rev anymore, Padre. Lost 'is son a while back to the pox and took to drink.”

Greyson nodded solemnly, holding his hat in his hands in front of him while the heat of the evening formed sweat on his brow. “I see. I suppose that is why I'm called here.”

"You're wastin' yer time, Padre," the marshal replied. "There ain't no man who's right with God in Bridgeton."

"That," he smiled, "is the point." What else was there in a town like this but moral depravity? He supposed that when one was surrounded on all sides by things which laughed in the night, one might easily lose faith. It was the men whose faith was bolstered by such happenings who cared to shepherd the flock. “I am sorry for your reverend. Perhaps he will come back to his faith...but the Church...” His eyes flicked to what he could see of the steeple towering up at the end of the main thoroughfare. It was the tallest structure in the small, bustling community and the large iron cross at the top was boldly in want of being seen. He was doubtful that there was a proper bell within that steeple anymore, as such things had a way of going missing if there was no one to insist upon it staying.

He and the marshal watched a man stagger from the swinging doors of the saloon across the way, his one arm hanging on the wood while the hinge strained against his weight. He vomited a course fall of liquor and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he stumbled back inside.

Greyson sniffed. "I see you've all been running rampant without a man of God about to keep the path to Heaven clear. The Lord knows, you're all going to have a time explaining this."

Embry raised a brow at him. "It's worse than you might think. Your chapel ain't a chapel anymore though I bet you a bit o' prayer happens there."

"I suppose I can't expect you all to let such a fine building go to waste. What has made roost there?"

Embry cleared his throat before he took a drag from his rolled cigarette. Smoke curled from his lips for a moment before he replied. "Bed-house."

"Bed-house?" he asked, puzzled.

Embry coughed with a slight grimace. "Uh...it's a _brothel_ , Padre."

Greyson felt himself stinging from Embry's words but he couldn't bother with surprise. On his trip out to Bridgeton, he'd seen some strange oddities that had arisen from westward expansion and this certainly was not the strangest. Though he would have wished there be no "bed-house" at all in such a town, that wasn't a realistic idea. He had originally thought that perhaps he could share the structure with whatever had come to utilize the area but that had been when he had thought it a family for living space or a shop for decent wares. _Not_ a house of ill-repute.

He sighed through his nose. “I suppose the madam bought it somehow...”

“After the Rev...well...it was just sittin' there empty so when they came to fill it, ain't nobody bothered to tell 'em no. They offered the town plenty of money to buy it and the town wasn't usin' it.” He gave Greyson a commiserating expression as if to tell him “ _Good Luck._ ” Luck was not what Greyson had, of course. Tenacity was what Greyson had—even if he wasn't always blessed by the will of Heaven.

“Alright,” he murmured, stepping down from the porch and placing his hat upon the horn of his saddle before he turned toward the chapel.

“What're you gonna do, Padre?”

He glanced back up to Embry for a moment before he adjusted his fascia, straightening the faille ends so that they did not cling to his cassock. “I am guided by my call, Marshal. I should do my best to aid those who need me most.” With that, he sought to ignore the sweat which trickled from the silver hair at his temples and he walked solidly along, his legs strengthening with his convictions. He pulled the door to the chapel open and sighed at the musty sweetness in the cooler air.

The interior of the church was open and though it still held pews, they had been pushed to the sides of the room and the floor had been covered in soft pillows and bedding which seemed to provide an open living space for the girls who lounged there. One of them stood, her soft Beta scent aided by fragrant soaps and perfumes and her dress a brilliant shade of red and fringed with black lace. Feathers plumed from her curled hair and she peered at him from under heavy black lashes and coaled eyes. Finding him to be dressed as he was, she was struck for a moment, whatever confidence she may have had suddenly vanished into the shadows.

“F-Father...”

At her shrinking, another of the women approached, older and more bold. She came to the girl's shoulder and touched her for comfort. “What've yeh come for, Father? We ain't got nothin' to confess and we ain't got a hint o' remorse. If it's favors you're lookin' for, we've got plenty and you won't find judgment here if we don't find it with you.”

He smiled at her, soft and small. “Are you the mistress here?”

She frowned at him. “I ain't, no. If you're lookin' for Saul, he's at the grocer. He'll be back if you want to wait for him.”

Greyson blinked with his shock of finding a _male_ running a brothel but nodded to her politely before he made his way to a spare pew by the door where he sat and gathered his rosary into his palms. The girls treated him with a little more than professional curiosity, some of them coming close to him to gawk at him, their noses keyed to his potent Alpha scent. The stairs off to his right led to the upper level of the chapel where he could hear men sating their lusts in deep grunts and thudding headboards. At least two Alphas strutted their way down the stairs and gave pause when they saw him, their sheepishness apparent as they didn't meet his eyes before they left.

The sun was nearly set by the time the door opened and a slight young man entered, suddenly mobbed by the women who gathered around him to aide him in bringing in the stores of food he'd brought on a wagon to the door. Greyson stood and waited until they had dispersed and all had been set to rights before he gave a polite little bow of his head to the man he discovered to be an Omega.

The man who faced him was a feather more handsome than he was beautiful, his shoulders square and his jaw well-defined. He wore a sensible shirt though it was open at the throat, revealing him to be pale, freckled, and free of any mark. His scent was fragrant and thick, filling the entry to the church with a fruity, sticky sweetness which cloyed and teased at Greyson's nose. His hair was a shocking and messy red and his eyes were a wicked green which flashed in the dying light of day which flowed in through the windows as the girls went about lighting the lamps.

The Omega put out his hand, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal freckled forearms and clean fingernails. “Saul Winters.”

Greyson took it, finding his grip satisfactory. “Father Greyson McOnder.”

When he let go, he relaxed, leaning against a support beam to the side of the archway into the sanctuary. “Passing through, Father?”

He let a little pause pass between them before he spoke plainly. “No.”

“No?”

He met the man's eyes and they stood together for several long seconds before the Omega nodded.

“I see. You want the church. Well I purchased the church, Father. It's mine. Have you come to make an offer?”

"Unfortunately, as a minister in the service of God, I've taken a vow of poverty. I cannot hope to buy this chapel from you, Mr. Winters. Perhaps if I were to convince the town council to raise funds to relocate you...a deal could be struck?"

His sweet scent held notes of displeasure that stung Greyson's nostrils. He hadn't encountered an Omega in person in months--close to a year, in fact. The west was so curiously devoid of them outside of Indian settlements that he had nearly forgotten that it was possible to have encountered one. That the one he found was the leader of some ragtag band of prostitutes seemed only fitting. Winters was nonplussed, of course. "I've invested too much money into this project to give it up now. Convince the council to build you an entirely new chapel if you're so set on having one."

"Perhaps a compromise, then," he suggested, his heart aching at the thought. It was unlikely that Winters would agree to such a thing anyhow, he thought to himself. Although, it was also equally unlikely that he could convince any of the town council to construct an entirely new chapel.

"What sort of compromise could _God_ be willing to make with little devil like me?" Winters asked, a mischievous glint catching in his eye.

"We could share the space. I would need only a small room and use of the sanctuary on Sunday mornings. Of course, I would ask that you and your girls abstain from your own services on Sundays as not to distract the townsfolk from their Sabbath."

"No."

He nodded, mostly to himself. He'd known it was coming. "I thought that would be too much for you. But I cannot, in good conscience—"

"That conscience of yours is gonna be a hell of a thing to overcome," Winters said, taking slow steps toward him. "That's if you want me to say yes."

"You're saying it's possible." He was wary and for good reason. The Omega was looking at him like some kind of prime cut.

"I'm saying it's possible. But it's not likely, since what I'd ask you to do is just for my own damned amusement and you Godly folk are much too high-handed to let it happen."

Intrigued, Greyson took a step back, unnerved by the Omega's closeness and the attractive sweetness of his scent. "Oh? And what could possibly amuse you enough to acquiesce?"

Winters took another step forward, reaching out to gently touch Greyson's white collar. "Are you a virgin, Alpha?"

Greyson couldn't help his laugh. "Are you suggesting that I sleep with you? Is it some fascination you have with helping a man shed his purity?" His chuckles were deep and lengthy. "I'll have to admit to you, Mr. Winters, if you were hoping to strip someone of their innocence, it cannot be me."

The Omega appeared distinctly irked and his hand dropped to his side. "And your vow of celibacy?"

"Intact since I took it. Are you looking to break something, Mr. Winters? It's not on the table." Greyson felt a pang against his conscience and was surprised to find that he was lying. Winters held exactly the sort of unholy beauty that could tempt a man from his vows. His face was perfectly formed with sculpted cheekbones and full pouting lips that begged for tasting. His body was uniquely masculine and the lines of his thighs were apparent in the somewhat tight trousers he wore which clung to him purposefully. He had called himself a little devil and that was exactly what he was.

"Even if you're mad in rut?" the Omega teased, recouping from his disappointment with a ready grin. "One heat, Father. That'll be enough. I promise there'll be no babe. Then we can share the church. It'll be apt...share my bed and I'll share your sanctuary. What do you say?"

It was an interesting proposal. It certainly wasn't worth considering and yet Greyson found himself considering it anyhow. His lack of a ready reply had the Omega's scent sparking with anticipation. When he finally did take in a deep breath, his response was curt. "Let me talk to the council."

Winters gave a disapproving sniff. "Fair enough. But know this, Father. I'll have you in my bed...or I'll have you out of Bridgeton."

Greyson didn't reply, nodding politely before he walked out into the purple twilight and headed for the inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This priest _fucks._
> 
> You know. Eventually.
> 
> Love it? Comment! Hate it? Eat rocks.


	2. Chapter 2

Saul Winters was perhaps the most patient man in Bridgeton. He knew it of himself and he knew it well enough that he could see the same virtue in another man's eyes. This priest was worriesome. There were enough men who could stop him from halting Saul's business but with enough pressure and moral righteousness, it seemed that the Church could sway whole swathes of men through shame alone. Not that anything of what they did was shameful, he thought spitefully.

He looked out the window at the man's back as he left, straight and tall and proud in his black cassock with wide shoulders and a light step. This was the last thing he needed. At least if he could bed the priest, he could be sure that he would have the man under his thumb. Even if he did have to make concessions, at least he would know that the Alpha could not disrupt his business by brute force and moral panic.

_It's always different when it's about sex. Violence and murder nobody bats an eye about but as soon as it's sex there's something that gets everyone all crazy about it._

“You gonna come in for some stew, Saul?” Tess asked him as he stood by the window. “Or are you going to think about him all night?”

He let her guide him away from the window and followed her into the small church kitchen where a pot of stew was simmering over the hearth. She dipped him out a bowl and he brought it into the sanctuary where he sat on one of their fluffy beds, reveling in the scent of all the girls together. He ate and listened to them prattle on about this and that. Most of them were downstairs and they would take their men as they came. Most men in Bridgeton had a regular girl he saw and he didn't want anybody else. Some were of the mind that variety was the spice of life. Whatever the case, the girls took their men upstairs in the private rooms and never brought them in the sanctuary which held only the pleasant scents of Beta and Saul's sweet buttercream Omega scent which was more potent and held fast.

“Is he gonna be a problem, Saul?” Kitty inquired, young with cornflower eyes and a smattering of freckles beneath her long, wavy red hair.

“Of course not,” he replied right away, though Tess knitted her brow at him.

“Don't lie to her, Saul. You and I both know that he's going to light up this whole place to get us out of this church.”

Saul sighed, stirring his stew while all the girls in the sanctuary stopped chattering to listen. Their scents were nervous, undecided. They'd faced threats before but now, on the back of the worst of them, there was the prospect that they might have a priest at their heels. It might occur to some of them that they might do better settling down. A few of them even had marriage prospects that they might wish to pursue and they might find it easier to leave if so much was stacked against them. “It's not the worst thing to happen, Tess. Girls, I want you to know you're not going to lose your home. I won't let that happen. I've invested far too much into this to let anything like that come to pass. And as far as the other thing—well we stay inside when it's dark and we don't try our luck.”

Maddie set down her mug of tea and came to him, sitting on his soft little pillow and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I know you're doing your best, Saul. Thank you.” She hugged her cheek against his and then got up while the other girls murmured their agreement.

Only Tess, the oldest, did not say anything. She'd been with him the longest and she was practically like his family by now. Her curls bounced as she shook her head. “Do you really think you're going to get him over you, boy? And what about the afterclaps? Do you think he's just going to let it all go once he has you down?”

“Maybe if he's been _in the sun_ a while,” Maddie provided as she came back to her tea. “Maybe he's got the same vice as the Rev. Maybe he thinks he has it under wrap.”

Paula grinned. “Maybe we get him right in his cups and he wakes up in Saul's bed in the mornin' with barrel fever and a wet prick.”

The girls giggled ferociously over this but Saul kept silent, taking bits of his stew and shaking his head.

“No?” Kitty asked, twirling her hair in her fingers.

Saul swallowed. “No. I want him to make the choice. I want him to know that I have him dead to rights. I want him to come to me willing and ready to sacrifice what he cares for to get what he thinks he wants. I want him to know that if he tries anything, his credibility is shot. If he's just as bad as the rest of 'em, then he can't rile 'em up against us.”

Tess leaned back, regarding him with half-lidded eyes. “You're assumin' he's a mouse, cat. He might be a dog.”

“A good ol' Catholic like that?”

“I heard the lilt in his voice, Saul. He's an Irishman straight from the spring. He's got more fire in him than you think.” Her coaled eyes found his and she sighed. “We shouldn't be laying around here gabbin' like this. Where's all the boys? It's a decent enough night. All this damn business has made it so we can't hustle like we ought to...” She tossed a small pillow with her ire. “Damn it, Saul! I want to be in the saloon!”

He frowned at her as the other girls looked to him expectantly, some of them hopeful and some of them fearful. “Tess, we've talked about this. It ain't even been a fortnight since we lost Betsy and I haven't the heart to lose another.”

“She made her choice, Saul,” she replied. “She got herself all fuddled up and she went into the alley with a boy who meant her ill. Same with Trix. Girl ain't never had a sharp thought in her life. This ain't what you think it is, boy. It's just some girls makin' some bad choices and findin' out at the very last.”

The younger women around him were quiet, Kitty with her lower lip between her teeth and Winnie with her head down. The scents around him didn't coincide with their agreement to Tess' statement and so he shook his head. “I can lose a girl to the pox. I can lose her to consumption. I can lose a girl to whatever natural forces happen in this world and I can get over it...but if I lose a girl to this again when there was a good way to stop it—I won't forgive myself.”

“You can't keep us locked in here forever.”

He was quiet as he finished his stew and when he was done, he set the bowl aside and regarded them all, peering at him with question in their eyes. “Alright...I'll go to the saloon. I'll get some men come back.”

Tess chirked her tongue. “We don't need you _blacksmithing_ for us, Saul. We need to put some _skin_ on these men!” She got up and rustled out her skirts, grumbling. “I ain't never took no lip from some _box herder_ and I'll take no lip from you, Saul Winters. I'm going to the saloon and if some girls want to go with me, we'll go together.” She looked around at the other girls and to Saul's chagrin, Carla, Kitty, and Paula slowly got up, fluffing the feathers in their hair.

Saul stood up as well. “Fine. But we stay together...and if you take a man back instead of upstairs, there are _no detours._ I better not regret this, Tess.”

She didn't speak to him again, giving him a sharp stare before she made her way up to her room to gather her things and freshen her powder and her coal. He went to his and changed his shirt to one that was black sheer with little flowers embroidered in gold thread across it and he made sure that it was open wide at the throat, though he didn't truly wish for a man to take him tonight. He hoped that Adelaide would be there, for she was the only Alpha who held him sweetly and smelled good enough that he might let her stay the night for not a night's worth of money. He met Tess and the other girls at the door and they walked out together, Kitty and Paula talking softly together about their hair and their skirts before they all wandered into the rowdy saloon.

It was raucous before they walked in but it was even moreso after, the men cheering and raising their glasses as all of the girls pulled out their feathered fans and fluttered them in show. Saul dragged the heels of his little shoes until he was at the bar, ignoring the whistles and calls of his name from some of the tables. He didn't see Adelaide and so he wasn't much interested, climbing up to sit on one of the sturdy wooden stools while Clive served him a shot of whiskey.

“Clive? You seen Miss Ketter?”

The keep shook his head.

The place smelled like mead, beer, whiskey, and about a dozen or so Alphas, their scents like a brush fire out of control. The wooden boards of the floor were laid over dirt and constantly dust was kicked up into the air to mingle with tobacco smoke and give the whole saloon a hazy quality Saul never liked much at all. He much preferred to stay in the cozy brothel, where the rooms were always clear and sweet-smelling and the only haze came from the incense lit to wash away the stink of visiting Alphas.

A huge presence was suddenly next to him and he fingered his still-full shot of amber, trying to ignore the man beside him.

“Evenin' Saul. You lookin' for company tonight?”

“I was wonderin' where I might find Miss Ketter,” he muttered without looking up at the ranch hand whose name he couldn't quite remember. He'd fucked the man once before but he looked so damned similar to some of the other boys around town that it was difficult to remember which one was which when their scents were so muddled in a place like this.

“Adelaide? Well, she's out on a huntin' trip with Amos, I heard. She deserves a little bit o' rest. Why don't you snuggle up with me for the night? I got a bit o' cash from Mr. Peeler this mornin' and if you give me a little discount, I could make it worth it.”

Saul lifted a brow. If he had a dollar for every time an Alpha wanted _a little discount_ he could have bought himself the whole town by now. “I'm not interested in makin' discounts. If you don't have the money for a night, you don't get a night.”

“Come on, Saul.”

“Come on, nothin'. You ain't got it, you don't get it.”

The ranch hand raised his hand, sliding the backs of his fingers down Saul's arm with his plea. “Darlin', it would take me a whole month to get in with you. You ain't gotta be some frigid bitch, you ain't gotta be this way. I been dyin' out in this place without a boy and it's tough to be a man like me with a taste like mine...”

“Maybe you go on back to where you came from to get a boy if you're so desperate for one,” Saul replied. “My life ain't about pity and I ain't got none to spare.”

The Alpha's scent was strong now and it soured greatly, transforming into a bitter wave of odor so powerful that Saul finally took his shot of whiskey, raising his finger up to Clive to get another. After a long and brooding bit of silence, the man picking at Saul's sleeve very slightly a few times, he got up and wandered off back to one of the tables, leaving him blessedly free. Of course, such freedom did not last long when one was the only boy in a brothel.

“You're antagonizing them.”

This presence was very different, hard and uncompromising. Saul turned his head, grateful at least that the man who chose to sit beside him was one who would most certainly not wish for anything from him tonight or any other night.

“Evenin', Marshal.”

“You lookin' to start fights in here tonight or what?”

He tapped the tip of his finger on the rim of his shot glass, tracing it lightly. “I don't think a few rejections should hurt a man, do you?”

“You know how Alphas are.”

“Yeah. I know how Alphas are. It's how I make my business. Knowin'.” He paused to take his second shot, his eyes sharp on the marshal's face. “You don't believe me, do you? You made a show of believin' me but you don't really.”

Embry's brows lifted up toward his hairline and he raised two fingers to Clive to order himself and Saul some drinks. “You and your girls are in a hard line o' work. You and I both know that there might be Alphas out here who don't know how to control themselves.”

Saul felt a line of ire rising in his chest. “Marshal...I could believe you if it was just that Betsy got herself a man who couldn't tell when to let her go. But you know as well as I do that no Alpha does what they did to her unless they meant to do it.”

“I been askin' around, don't you get your little self tied in knots. I don't want nobody out here gettin' violent with the women either but you know how guarded they are around me. Chances are it was just some drifter, Saul.”

“And Izzy?”

“Izzy was a while back and ain't nothin' to connect the two.”

“ _My ass_ ,” he muttered, shooting down what Clive brought him, his face growing warm from the liquor.

The marshal sighed through his nose, looking down at the whiskey in his glass. He was a good man and a fair man. He wasn't corrupt and he didn't suffer much idiocy when he could help it. Even for all that, the Alpha was a stubborn soul who didn't think much of digging where he didn't think anything lay beneath. To him, the deaths of a couple call girls weren't something that marked any larger pattern. They were just a fact of life. But the marshal hadn't been there. The marshal hadn't seen the boot prints that were littered around each of the girls. Despite that Saul had told him they were the same—down to the pattern of wear—he hadn't seen them himself before the whole scene had been contaminated and brutalized by those itching to see carnage.

Embry shook his head. “I know you care a lot about those girls, Saul. But sometimes the best thing to do for them is—”

“Don't you say it.”

He sighed again. “I know you all make your money and you do good things for this town but, if you really think they're gonna be in danger, you've got the power to stop it.”

“So do you. You really think a sick man would stop if there weren't any cats in the cathouse? No...he'd find someone else. Maybe that sweet boy you got at home.”

Embry's scent flattened into something sinister. “I ain't afraid for Isaac. He knows his way around a gun.”

“Don't lie, Marshal, it rots your scent. No matter if he does know his way around a gun, you do worry for him. Well why don't you worry for us the same? Just because we ain't shittin' out your pups?”

The Alpha stood, emptying his glass before he gathered his hat from the bar. “You think about it, Saul. That preacher what come to speak to you today would make good use out of that church. Better use than it has now. If he gets a bunch o' god-fearin' Christians riled up, the council just might strip it right out from under you and you'd best plan for that contingency.” He cleared his throat. “Now, pardon me, Omega. I've got a mate to get home to and he doesn't appreciate it when I'm late.”

He was buzzing when the marshal had gone, his scent sparking with a dangerous fire. He didn't want to plan for that contingency. He didn't want to lose everything he had fought for just because some righteous sheep-herder thought it was his right to preach the word of God in a godforsaken country like this. His eyes scanned through the crowd restlessly and he watched the game of poker, meeting the eyes of some of the men who sat around the table. He was keen to take their winnings if it meant he could forget about some of this for a while but before he had the chance to get up and wander over to entice them all with his scent, yet another man sat beside him.

“Evenin' Mr. Winters.”

“Forgive me, Beta, I forgot your name.”

“Levi.”

He chewed his lip a little bit, uncertain as to whether or not he'd fucked this one before. Betas, mild as they were, were sometimes a little forgettable.

“We've never been uh...properly introduced.”

That settled that question, he thought. “Is there something I can help you with, Levi?”

He was dusty and blonde, his hair bleached by the sun. When he smiled bashfully, Saul could see a gap between his front teeth and upon further inspection he found the boy to be younger than he seemed at first glance. “Well, Mr. Winters, I been here for a year or so and I been puttin' away my pennies and I thought that...well if I might get myself a night with you, that'd be just real nice.”

Saul let the side of his mouth lift a little bit, an odd affection lighting in his chest. “What would a boy like you know about doin' with an Omega like me? Look at you—somewhere between hay and grass and sittin' down next to me like you been lookin' fer a chance all evenin'.”

His face was flushed under his freckles and he lifted his hand to his hair, pushing it back nervously. “Well you might be right. I ain't got much to save for if I'll be honest and I ain't never met a man like you before and...well I'd be lyin' if I were t' say I wasn't curious.”

Saul let his hand slip over the Beta's thigh, picking at a few horsehairs which stuck to his trousers, noting that each brush of his fingers made the boy twitch with anticipation. “You ever been with a woman before?”

His eyes slid about to see if anyone was listening and then his gaze turned downward when he gave a short shake of his head.

“And men?”

Another shake.

Saul nodded slowly. This wasn't an isolated event. Plenty of boys—usually Alphas—came to him looking to shed their innocence. “Well...how long should you like to spend with me, boy?”

“I've got enough for a night...”

“Do you?”

“P-Please...if you haven't taken an offer.”

He wouldn't make the boy beg. With meaningful glances toward the girls he'd brought with him, he left with the young Beta. Saul walked ahead while his new companion spoke about a number of small meaningless things at his heels, the little hayseed with clear eyes and that gap-tooth smile growing on him with every moment. He was working on Max Truman's ranch and he had been ever since the fires in Talton.

“You know,” the boy prattled on as the moon shone down bright over the dirt road. “I guess the lord must work in mysterious ways, ain't that right, Mr. Winters? 'Cause if Talton hadn't gone like it did, I think I mighta been workin' in the mines. I'd hate to be there about as much as I'd hate to be up in the mountains with those loggers I see come into town here everyday. I'm glad Mr. Truman had work for me and that he pays me so fair...” He took a few steps to bring himself to Saul's side, his fingers slipping nervously against the Omega's palm, taking a tentative grasp of his hand. When he wasn't rejected his anxious scent smoothed out a little. “Y-You've always been th-the prettiest Omega I ever seen.”

“How many Omegas have you seen?”

Levi shrugged one shoulder. “Well uh...there was Miss Tennison. She was my school teacher in Talton and uhm...there was Miss Supple and Miss Culpepper but they was like...eighty. And o'course that sour little rot that Marshal Embry got tied up with. I think he could be pretty but he always lookin' at everyone like they's fixin' to put a knife in 'is back.”

Saul smiled, finding a laugh easy at that. It died in his throat when he peered upward as they passed the inn and his eyes found the tall black specter of the _priest_ in his dark cassock. His gaze shined with the moonlight and the white of his collar seemed to gleam through the night as he watched Saul bring the boy back toward the church to deflower him. An irksome bitterness welled up like bile and he hoped that the gentle breeze would waft his sweet scent to the preacher's nose and tease him. He hoped that the man might think of all the things he was going to do with this boy and he would hold himself in one big cupped hand and stroke himself to the thought. He hoped that the priest was _weak_ and _male_ and _only flesh_. He wanted to imagine that he could be overwhelmed and destroyed.

_I want to know that I can defeat God, if it comes down to it._

At the brothel, the boy handed him the money and he took it to their safe before he returned and, with that darling coy smile he was known for, he let the boy up to his room. Dominated by the large four-poster bed adorned with heavy brocade curtains, the room also sported an expensive vanity with a large looking glass and sheer white curtains which were almost always closed. It smelled of Saul's natural sweetness as well as the gentle musk of incense and lamp oil. Saul moved about, turning up the lamps and cracking the window a bit so the warm night breeze may find them. It would ease the sometimes overwhelming scent of sex and excited Omega and it would help keep the temperature in the room down, as it was very cozy and easy to heat.

“Wow,” Levi murmured. “I never been somewhere so sweet...”

“Should you like to learn what a man does in a place like this?” Saul asked him, pressing his shoulders until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “You've paid, after all, you're allowed to touch me.”

“If...” His face was a dusty pink. “If you wanna show me...”

“Do you want my mouth, Beta?”

“W-What?”

Saul grinned. “A bath then. I'll call for it. And in the meantime, I might kiss you.”

“I-I-I think I'd like that,” the boy breathed and so began his first lesson.

Eager. Willing to learn. Tentative. Mild. This was a boy who would stay a Beta, Saul thought of him when he was naked and shuddering under his hands. Barely there wisps of hair on his chest which trailed down his belly and brushed out in curls around a modest manhood were tell-tale enough signs that a boy wasn't going to present beyond his early destiny. Some had surprised him in the past but he doubted wholly that the same would happen to this darling innocent. He moved the boy's hands over his body, teaching him how and where to touch. When the bath came and was filled, he showed him even more—how sweet it could be to have another man beneath the water. He brought the boy to gasps and sighs and kept him from spending too soon with every dalliance, teasing him until it was time to take what was offered.

They were on the wide bed over the counterpane, hot breath and sweet sweat between them as he gently coaxed the boy into new understanding. He taught him of his own body and of how to pleasure another and most importantly, how to prolong the ecstasy until he was a writhing and begging mess in the arms of a whore. Saul's lips teased over Levi's ear, his teeth nipping and his mouth sucking while he hissed through his teeth. “ _Are you ready, Beta? Are you ready to become a man?_ ”

“ _Y-yes!_ ” he wept, his hands held to either side of him as Saul passed a well-formed thigh over his lap.

With relish, the Omega watched Levi's eyes widen when he was sheathed completely, his breaths released in quiet, overwhelmed little cries. His reactions were understated even in his boyish earnesty—a true Beta at heart. It was easy to ride him, to feel his hands holding Saul close as though he were a precious artifact as his hips rocked slowly until the boy spilled inside him. He kissed Levi in the aftermath of his orgasm, delighting in the way the boy had learned so quickly the art of giving and taking with his mouth.

“O-Omega?”

“Mmm?” he purred, pressing sweet kisses to the side of the boy's mouth. “Are you tired, Beta? The night is still young and I have so much more to teach you...”

“Would y-you...” His eye found Saul's pleadingly, clearly uncertain.

“Would I...? For the amount you paid me, Levi, there is not much I would not do.”

He swallowed thickly. “I...I wondered if, perhaps...you might uh...” He sniffed. “No...no, nevermind.”

“Come, Levi, if there was anything in your heart you always thought you might like, you might as well ask while you've got me well before the sunrise.”

The boy looked up at him, his lower jaw trembling. “You won't think I'm...sick?”

A spire of cold began to grow in Saul's stomach, threatening to pierce his heart. A deep panic beneath the surface of his calm. “What do you mean, Beta?”

He seemed at a loss. “Well...I thought...that maybe, you bein' a man and all, I might get around to bein' brave enough to ask if you might...t-take me...t'other way.”

Saul felt a deep sigh rinse away all the coldness that had eaten at him and he leaned forward, the stress in him melting. “Oh...that's all? Well that's an easy one.”

“You won't tell anyone, will you?”

“Not a soul, sweetheart. What happens here in this room is between you and me. That's the way it is with everyone. Now get up, boy. I'm gonna put my mouth on you first. And don't you be embarrassed about anything that happens here tonight. It's your first time doin' this and you ain't never done it before. Which means you get a free pass. Next time, though, I'll tell you what to do before you come to see me.”

Levi's blush was a deep scarlet and his scent was emboldened, blending into a deep contentment that lasted the rest of the evening, especially after he was driven to a hard and gripping second climax not twenty minutes from the first, sweating and panting, the sheets and pillows mussed up around him as he'd had to scream into them from the force of his pleasure. Saul breathed behind him, cleaning himself and Levi's backside with a wet cloth before he laid down next to the heaving Beta and gave him a tired smile.

“How was that, Levi?”

“Will you...call me 'little one?'”

Saul's heart was warmed and the notion tickled him so much that he moved to nibble at Levi's ear again, kissing his temple and murmuring softly to him. “How was that, _little one?_ ”

Levi's eyes closed and his smile was wide. “You're an angel, Saul Winters...”

“Mmm,” he chuckled. “I doubt that. Probably more like the devil than an angel.”

The boy adjusted himself, curling up into Saul's arms and holding him about his middle. “I know you ain't the devil. I met the devil once. You don't look anything like 'im.”

Before Saul could ask him what he meant, he was fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Levi is baby. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Content Warning: Suicidal Ideation, Brink of Suicide, Talking Down**

The town of Bridgeton was lacking in moral fortitude. That was the only conclusion that Greyson could come to after he'd spoken to each and every one of the men who made up the town's council including the Alpha mayor, a Mr. Townshend. A tall man with a thick, bushy mustache and brows, he had little patience for religion and even less for a Catholic. He was a man who prayed to his pocket watch and his billfold and he was not the sort to entertain the notions of a man who might not make him money.

“Saul and the girls pay their fees and their fines and he bought that chapel fair enough,” the Alpha stated gruffly as he loaded bags of feed into the back of his family's wagon. “Offerings to a brothel find their way into the town's economy much faster than offerings to a church, pardon my saying, Padre.”

“Surely you should see the merit of morality,” Greyson tried, feeling the sweat heavy on his brow.

“Morality doesn't get a man elected mayor, Padre.” He fully faced Greyson and rubbed his thumb over his other fingers. “Money. Money is what runs this town. Mr. Tillegan who runs that logging operation keeps this whole place afloat with the money coming in from that. I make it so he's not impeded in doing so, and Bridgeton stays alive.”

“And what does the logging operation have to do with—”

“The men who cut trees don't care one whit about God, Father. They care about food, drink, and sex. Right now, Bridgeton has plenty of all of that. I let you get rid of that brothel and Mr. Tillegan's men are going to be very upset about it...no matter how much you think _God_ might do for them.”

“And you are the sort of Alpha who lets another man tell you what to do with your town.”

“I am the sort of Alpha who does what's right for a community. God's got nothin' to do with it. We make our food, we build our houses, and we raise our children. We don't need some holy man come tell us how to worship when we've got everything we need from our own two hands. God's surely got his eye on the bigger picture, Padre, he don't have to worry much about a little town like us.” He gave Greyson a glance which told him the conversation was over before he climbed onto the wagon and grabbed the reins. “Good day, Father.”

Greyson sighed, wiping his forehead with the heel of his palm before he turned around back toward the inn. The inn keep's name was Calvin and Greyson could at least be thankful for him. A devout Catholic, he had given the priest the small room at the end of the hall which he could use until he had found other lodgings for no charge. The only service Greyson could provide him was confession but it seemed the man was very much happy to take it, sitting with him just about every evening in the quiet candlelight in the kitchen of the inn with no one about. Now, Calvin leaned on the rail of the porch, his usually crisp white shirt wilted a bit from the heat.

“What do you think you might do, Father?” he asked, his clear blue eyes sharing in Greyson's frustrations.

He shook his head slightly. “I'm sure I don't know quite yet. I think I'm going to have to ask the boss.”

“If you need parchment—”

“Not the boss that needs parchment. This one just needs a prayer.”

Calvin nodded with understanding as Greyson came up on the porch, walking over the creaking wooden boards until he could sink down onto one of the chairs settled there for guests. It was early afternoon and every single councilman had told him in so many polite words that he was going to be out of luck if he wanted to convince them that morality was something sorely needed in a place like this. From what he understood, if there _was_ a church, it was likely to be attended by some but most had their own individual spiritual connection and didn't need some priest to tell them what was to be done.

“Well...” Calvin breathed, turning around toward him and leaning back against the banister. “I guess they all think they can do without you, huh?”

“Some of them, yes. They could be right.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled a little. “There are some in this world who were not meant to be pious. They were not meant for confessionals or to attend service. There are some people whose calling is a bit different...though the church may not agree with me on this count.” He grinned at the inn keep who was peering at him with incredulous curiosity. “You cannot save every man because not every man was meant to be saved...or needs to be saved. Sometimes a belief is not stated in the manner in which the church would like but still sounds the same when reflected in the heavens—a rose by any other name, you see.”

“You've lost me, Father...”

He drew the side of his mouth upward, thinking a little on how to phrase it. “A man does not have to be a Catholic. He does not even have to ascribe to Christianity.”

“Father...” Calvin crossed himself.

“Bear with me. Sometimes you meet a man who proclaims that he does not believe in God. He does not believe that Jesus Christ was his son. That he performed miracles. They do not believe in the power of prayer or the touch of saints. But that man believes in doing the right thing above all. He is moral, he is righteous.”

“He is still damned...” Calvin supplied, uncertain.

“This is a harsh world, Alpha,” Greyson replied. “Those who seek companionship with prostitutes and yet who can retain their devotion to preventing harm or doing the right thing whenever possible—those are men with their morality intact.”

“But you and I both know, Father, that fornication brings the degradation of community...”

He sniffed. “Even Jesus kept company with a whore, Calvin.”

The innkeep frowned, his eyes wandering the dirt street until he was staring at the steeple of the chapel where Saul Winters and his girls resided. “You know...I never told you this in our confessions, Father, but I...” He swallowed hard. “After my Becky passed a few years back...it was a few months out and a man gets used to having another in his bed. I wasn't sleepin' well and so I...I went. I just asked her if she might lay beside me and she did.”

“And what did you discover?”

“S-Sometimes you...you just need a woman beside you. We never did nothin' but talk and sleep but, Father...she opened me up like a spring bud and I cried like a baby. We ain't had a confessional and so I guess I used her. Just told her all about everythin' on my mind and she was so good about it...”

“What made you stop going?”

“I guess I just didn't have any more left in me. She'd heard it all by then.”

“Did you feel better?”

“Yeah, I reckon I did...”

Greyson made a motion with his hands and replied, “The ears of God are all around you, Calvin. She can't tell you to say your Hail Mary's but she didn't have to, did she?”

“No...I said 'em all the same.”

He smiled and Calvin smiled back, his scent much calmer and more soothed now.

The relative calm that had descended over them was broken by the sight of a woman holding up her skirts and running full tilt down the street and when she reached the inn, she grasped upward onto the nearest baluster for the raised porch.

Calvin leaned to look at her. “Miss Penny? You alright?”

She was winded and her hair was wild, the pins loose and letting her curls escape around her head in a blonde cloud. “Cal! You have to help. It's Henry. He's got his daddy's gun and I'm sure he's about to use it.”

Greyson shared an alarmed glance with the Alpha and stood with him. “Is there some way I could help, Miss?”

“You might as well, Father. If anyone can get him to calm himself down, it might be you.” They rushed together down the dirt street and she spoke as they went. “His Pa died not too long ago and he's been quiet ever since. You know what grief does to a boy. Well, he hasn't been eatin' and he's got this look in his eyes, Father. He ain't himself...I knew I should have taken that damned gun and buried it! Oh, I'm such a _fool!_ ”

There wasn't time for further lamentation, for soon enough they rounded the side of a small wooden house there they found the boy with a revolver in his hands, peering down at the blue steel cylinder before he clicked it with his thumb into place.

Calvin reached out with one hand, too far to reach him. “Henry, don't.”

Henry didn't look up. He was quiet, turning the gun around so that his thumb was on the trigger and the barrel was tipped toward his face.

“Henry, please.”

Greyson could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his instinct to dive forward, to try to stop this from happening. But a trigger was faster than a man and so he put his hand out to Calvin, preventing him from trying the same. “Son...” His voice was low and unfamiliar and though it was softer than most Alpha voices, it was different enough to capture his attention. The boy didn't move the gun away from him but flicked his eyes over, his gaze catching on his vestments and then the rosary hanging from his waist.

“Are you here to give me last rites, Father?”

“Is that something you're sure you want?”

Miss Penny was staring at him, her eyes filled with tears and her mouth covered by her hands. There was horror in her mild scent and she came to Calvin, searching for comfort and so he held her.

Henry nodded just slightly. “There ain't no point, is there? There ain't no preacher who'll say I get to Heaven like this so what's the point of last rites?”

Greyson let the boy have a soft smile and smelled confusion in his sticky Alpha scent. “It's not really up to me, after all...you are sick. If a sickness kills you, you deserve your absolution.”

“I ain't sick, Father.”

“I beg to differ. May I sit?” The porch was wide and open without a balustrade and on the opposite side of the wooden platform which was low to the ground, there was a wooden rocking chair that sat empty. It was too far from the boy to reach him physically and it seemed like it might be safe enough to ask. “It would be easier for a confession if I were beside you. It is less like a confrontation this way.”

Henry frowned down at the barrel, staring into the darkness of it. “Fine...but you might get yourself dirty...”

“I'll wash.”

The young Alpha seemed a little perturbed by the candidness of the statement and he shifted in his seat while he peered at Miss Penny and Calvin.

Greyson looked to the innkeep. “Calvin, might you give us a few moments?” When they were alone, he eased the rocking chair forward a little and then back, holding his rosary in his fingers and pulling it from himself. “Are you a Catholic, Henry?”

“I don't think so...”

“It's hard out here to know, I think. And it's difficult to take a stranger's word. Isn't it?”

“I guess so.”

“Would you like to hold this? Sometimes I find that running my fingers along them gives me comfort. They are supposed to remind me of prayers but sometimes it just feels nice to touch. It is familiar in a certain way and it gives me something to do with my hands.”

Henry pressed the barrel of the revolver against his forehead, his eyes closed. “I think I have my hands full, Father.”

“Perhaps you do. I think that you must also have a full mind, then. Have you ever confessed?”

“N-No...”

“It is very easy. You say, 'bless me, Father, for I have sinned' and then you tell me what is on your mind.”

Henry's brows were still knitted and his eyes were still closed, a short little laugh coming out as a sob. He wiped at his cheeks to rid them of some stray tears. “Bless me, Father...for I have sinned.”

“Very good. Tell me about this, Henry. How did you get here?”

He swallowed hard. “I just...picked up Pa's gun...and I sat down on this here chair. I always sat here.”

“Where did your Pa sit?”

Henry opened his eyes, shifting them over to Greyson. “Where you are.”

The priest nodded, bringing his hand to his face to wipe over his mouth while he sifted through thoughts. “Things are difficult now that your Pa is gone. There are many things he did that cannot be replaced. His work. His touch over your life.”

Henry swallowed, his voice weak. “He did everything for me.” He paused, heaving out a little sigh. “Ain't we supposed to talk about my sins?”

“Sometimes a man has to work around to it.” He fingered his rosary beads. “You can take all the time you need. There is nothing to rush you. There is nothing you need to do. There is no one you need to answer to but God.”

The boy sniffed. “I don't think God would take kindly to me...”

“Why do you say that?”

“I ain't prayed since Ma died. That was when I was real small. She used to...” A few more tears escaped onto his flushed cheeks. “She and I used to sit outside here when it was cool at night in the summer and we'd look up at the stars and see so many...like somethin' only angels could make...” When Greyson was quiet, he drew in another breath, the barrel still against his forehead. “When she died...I think my Pa got real mad at God. We didn't pray. He never said why. When the Rev come and he had his sermons, we never went... And then when the Rev's son...well...I think everyone loses God out here, Father. You just wait. You'll lose God too.”

“None of you have lost God. That is impossible. You walk along a path that was made for you and sometimes you struggle. Sometimes you stumble. Sometimes you fall. But God has never taken his eyes off of you.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Don't you? Why do you think I am here, Henry? Just coincidence? Our paths just happened to cross just now?”

He was quiet, the wind rattling the tin roof which was loose in one spot.

Greyson's voice was so very soft, trained to be over months of practice. “What is the weight upon you, Henry? _How did you get here?_ ”

He sniffed, finally bringing the gun away from his head and holding the barrel in his hand, lifting himself until he was sitting upright, his tears sliding down his chin and throat. “They took my Pa. They took my Pa and now they's gonna take his house and where am I gonna be? What am I gonna do?”

“Who took your Pa?”

He sniffed, wiping at his eyes again. “He worked for Tillegan...that rat bastard. Rich as sin and just as mean...drove my Pa right to his grave. His heart...just quit. They brought him back to me...in a pine box. Just left him...” He sobbed, the revolver loose in his hand.

Greyson leaned back, counting over his beads again. “You are such a brave Alpha.”

“Brave?” he asked, incredulous.

“To be so heartsick and to carry on so far. It is a constant battle and one that cannot often be fought alone. Miss Penny...she does help?”

“She come to help me do cleanin' sometimes...”

“Yes...and she cares for you.”

“I guess.”

He let the rocking chair creak over the boards as he leaned forward again. “It is difficult to see the light when your heart is dark. But no small happiness dishonors your grief much like no small sadness dishonors your joy. Would you like to see the stars, Henry?”

The young Alpha gave another sob and he leaned forward his tears dripping onto his hands and his father's gun. “Is this...is this the end?”

“It doesn't have to be.”

He lifted the revolver again, taking a long, solemn look at it before he let it slip from his grip into the sparse grass off the side of the porch. He let his hands dangle between his knees and he took in a great breath. “What do I do now?”

“Fill your hands,” Greyson told him, swinging the rosary toward him until he caught it, watching him examine the wooden beads with curiosity. “Touch them. Go ahead. I used to have a very proud-looking one but I traded it for this one. I met a young _Báxoje_ man who had found value in the words of a former priest who had come to minister to them and he had made this for himself. He seemed happy with the trade but I think this one suits us both better and should I come across him again, he will likely have made another.”

Henry's mouth tipped up at the edge just a little bit as he toyed with the larger beads. “I...I didn't confess anything...did I?”

“You said what you needed to say.” He got up and moved to where the gun lay before the Alpha and he picked it up, expertly uncocking it and tucking it in his fascia. He turned to Henry and got to his knees so that he might be on a similar level with him and he reached out, softly but clearly stating his prayer of absolution while holding the boy's hands together, the rosary dangling down between them. His scent was evening out despite the must of his potent grief. When he was finished, he squeezed the teen's hands and gave him a gentle smile. “You have done so well. I'm proud of you.”

Henry nodded, giving another great swallow. “They's still gonna take the house...”

“We'll see about that.”

“Mr. Tillegan owns the loan, Father. There ain't nobody with enough money to buy it from him outright...”

Greyson's lips tightened on one side. “I could think of one.”

_The only catch is that he's still a little devil and he's going to want to make a deal._


	4. Chapter 4

The days were long and hot but despite this, there was an uptick in Saul's business as the girls slowly convinced him to let them run wild again. It made him nervous when they took their bed partners in unfamiliar spaces or didn't tell anyone else where they were going to be and when they were going to be home. He tried to corral them as best he could but Tess was resistant and plenty of the other girls were too. They made their money by their wiles and they felt confident that they could do it well without so much hassle and so he let them for the most part. He scolded a few when they'd come home in the morning after having not told a soul where they were but usually they already had sore bottoms or pinching bruises and so he thought they might have been punished enough.

He knew the priest was up to something. There'd been a bit of a buzz just a few days prior about Henry Milton and it seemed that Father Greyson McOnder had suddenly become a topic of conversation beyond his prodding at the usage of the chapel for services beyond what Saul could provide. The more reasonable members of the community chatted about his quietude and peculiar presence which was much more welcoming than most Alphas. The less reasonable members of the community thought that he could possibly perform miracles.

Saul sniffed at that, rolling a cigarette before he slid open his bedroom window and lit it with a match.

“Sweet baby, why don't you come back into this bed here?”

He took a drag and let it out before he turned his eyes back toward Jeb Gilman, the Alpha who owned the General Store. A husband and a father with another babe on the way. “It's past noon, big guy, what's your wife gonna think?”

“My wife ain't gonna think nothin'. I didn't marry her for her thoughts.”

“Why did you marry her, then?”

“Because you wasn't the marryin' type.”

Saul licked his lips, twitching his brows up in agreement to that before he tapped his cigarette out in his little tray on the sill and got up, moving to the end of his bed and leaning on the post. “You lookin' to give me a little more cash this afternoon then?”

Jeb grumbled a bit before he leaned over the edge and rooted through his discarded trousers, pulling out a few wrinkled bills that he tossed toward the Omega. It was enough for a bit of tender care this afternoon and when the money was put away, Jeb opened his arms.

Saul straddled him and kissed his throat, nibbling just under his ear. “You're a selfish piece of work, Jeb.”

He squeezed at Saul's ass and dipped his fingers against his opening. “Like you've got any room to talk. You won't even let that poor preacher have a Sunday morning for service.”

“I like my own Sunday morning service.”

Jeb pressed a little more before he reached for Saul's bottle of lubricant and then reapplied his touch, breaching the Omega's body with two fingers just to tease. “I like your everyday service...” He nipped at Saul's throat, rubbing his lips and his mustache over sensitive flesh. “I like when you make time for me, sweet baby.”

“Mmm, you know I always make time for you.”

“That's 'cause you know where the money comes from.”

Saul grinned and chuckled as he let the Alpha impale him from below, filling him with a squat, fat cock. Jeb was easy to please, all he had to do was bounce up and down and let him tug and pinch his nipples all he liked and soon he was spent. He wasn't the sort who liked to think anything were to come from all of this and so when it was over again, Saul cleaned himself up without fanfare and moved to the window again, relighting his cigarette while Jeb got his clothes on.

“You know,” he mumbled as he fumbled with his necktie. “You ought to talk to that priest again. He's been gathering a few people around the porch of the inn and if he gets too many ears, you might find yourself in a little bit of trouble.”

“People like me more than they like him,” he replied, watching the ranch hands trade goods on the street.

“Do they? My wife sure don't.”

“If you don't care what your wife thinks, why should I?”

The Alpha sighed through his nose. “You know, you have the council by their balls but once somebody gets the women all fired up about _morality_ then you know how that goes. Especially with a good lookin' preacher like that.”

Saul let go of a breathy laugh. “They are charmed by his face, are they? I might be, myself.”

“God speed to you, Saul Winters. If anyone could tempt him, it would be you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

Jeb, dressed now, put his hand on the door handle. “One more kiss before I go?”

“Half a bit.”

He rolled his eyes but dug around in his pocket before he showed it to Saul and put it down on his bedside table, walking across the room to place a tender little open-mouthed kiss upon the Omega's lips. When it was done, he murmured down at him softly, his voice trailing and low. “If you hadn't been married to your money, sweet baby, I'd have taken care of you.”

“Yeah, you and a hundred other men.”

“Yes,” Jeb smiled. “Right now it really is me and a hundred other men.”

Saul pushed at him playfully. “Get out of here, Jeb. Go take care of your real wife.”

When he was alone and the room was silent, he sat by the window and smoked for a while, the heat of the afternoon making his room stuffy and oppressive. After a quick bath with a rag and some lavender powder, he dressed, his clothes simple but this throat bared. He'd forgotten to tell Jeb to order more cans of peaches if he could get them. Cans of peaches made the girls taste sweeter, so they all thought.

Of course, if he thought the heat was oppressive inside, it was even moreso outside. The sun was beating down over Bridgeton without mercy, cracking the dirt street and driving dust from the wooden and metal wagon wheels. He didn't make it far, taking just a few steps from the church doors before he found himself facing the dark black-clad chest of a very serious Alpha.

“Mr. Winters.”

He took a moment before he turned his head up, ready to face those severe gray eyes which seemed to gaze through him to his very soul. It was ridiculous, he knew, but that kind stare was knowing and in some strange manner _tragic_ as though this man knew loss stronger than any other man Saul had ever met. “Father.”

“Do you have a few moments?”

“I do not. I'm on my way to the grocer.”

“May I accompany you?”

He felt his brows tick inward but he gave a slight shrug. “I cannot see why you should ask. Alphas always do what they will no matter.”

“I would not like to discomfit you. I know that walking about with me might look strange.”

Saul sniffed out a little laugh. “For me? Father, I doubt anyone would think anything about _me_ if they saw us together.”

“No?” His mouth curled and Saul's heart jumped a bit as he didn't expect such an easy smile from a man like this. He looked younger when he smiled though the edges of his eyes took on a few small wrinkles. “Do you think that it is believable that you will tempt me? Perhaps it is. I am not the son of God, after all, and forty days is a long time to be tempted...I think I will stay far longer...”

“What are you saying, Father?”

He narrowed his eyes, his smile amused and light. “I do not mind keeping your company. Even if Bridgeton thinks less of me for having done so.”

“Does that mean you'll help me with my heat?”

“My celibacy is not for breaking. Are you not a cat in a cat house? Do you not like to play with your food?”

Saul began to walk with him. “Eventually the mouse is devoured.”

“Unless he wriggles away.”

“Or unless it turns out that he wasn't a mouse after all,” he countered, searching the priest's face for clues to his motives. They reached the grocer and Father McOnder waited outside for him, his Alpha scent strong enough to have clung to Saul's clothes, spicy and fresh and green like the earth around black stones. Usually when a man aged, his scent evened out and even faded but this Alpha was potent and bold and the heat made it even more difficult to avoid—his was a handsome scent and one that could tease and tempt any Omega attuned to it. It was really no wonder he found himself peering out his bedroom window and looking down at the porch of the inn, waiting to see the black of the man's clothes and cut of his shoulders. When he came out again after telling Jeb's cousin to order him peaches and a bit more tobacco, the priest was waiting for him, his smile returning and again sending Saul's heart into a soft staccato.

“Do you have any more errands, Mr. Winters?”

“No, Father. What would you like to discuss?”

His gray eyes flicked back and forth and his smile tightened. “I think it best a matter discussed outside of such a public venue.”

“Oh?”

“Ah, you look like the fabled cat with the cream but I must disappoint you. It is not about the church.”

He stepped into the street and looked this way and that before he crossed with the priest by his side, the man keeping up with him easily as he made his way toward the saloon. “Have a drink with me, Father?”

“I will have water.”

“No whiskey for a holy man?”

He sniffed. “If you insist, I will have wine.”

“I do insist.”

“This is not what I had in mind for privacy.”

Saul ignored him, holding one of the swinging doors open until he'd stepped inside and ordering a whiskey for himself and a glass of wine for the preacher. Of course, it was only afternoon but there were a few drinking men already present and most of them looked up at the introduction of McOnder. It was a novel sight, probably, but one the preacher took in stride, nodding to the gentlemen before he settled down at a table with his wine in perhaps the only stemmed glass in the whole place.

“Now, Father,” he began, sipping his whiskey while the Alpha took a gentle swig of his drink. “Nobody's listenin'. Tell me what you want.”

“You heard of what happened with young Mr. Milton, I presume.” His voice was soft, low, and had the sort of quality that made Saul lick his lips while goosebumps rose over his arms. He'd just spent half the morning getting fucked by Jeb Gilman and it took only this to get him ready to go again.

“Where are you from, Father?”

His mouth was wide his his grin. “You mean to distract me.”

“I can hear you hiding the immigrant in your voice. You're very good but you're not good enough for my ear.”

The priest stared at him, his upper lip twitching a little bit as his scent slightly soured. “Ireland.”

“Is it beautiful there?”

He didn't look like he wanted to talk about it, his humor gone from his face and his features as still as stone. “I need a favor of you, Mr. Winters.”

“Right. A mutt after a bone, you are.” He took a gulp of his drink and made sure not to look at any of the other men who were casting glanced in their direction. “I hope you know that my favors don't come cheap.”

“You sell yourself short. I've heard of your good deeds. You paid Travis Baker's wages for six months when he couldn't work after a broken leg. You've harbored young women on wagon trains heading toward California if they asked you for aid. You've fed and clothed children, you've supported grieving widows, and you've offered alms to those in need.”

Saul gazed at him dispassionately. “So what of it?”

Greyson licked his lips. “You might not be a man like me, Mr. Winters, but as far as I can see, you use that Church for as much good as you can. I'm wonderin' if you might do a little more good for Henry Milton whose father just passed. Poor boy might lose the house.”

He drained his glass. “That loan is held by Tillegan.”

“Buy it from him.”

Saul raised a finger to the barkeep and another whiskey was brought. “Father, I don't know if you know this, but Tillegan ain't the man you buy loans from. If you wanna buy a loan from Tillegan, you gonna buy it for twice its worth.”

“Then I will owe twice its worth.”

“You're a poor man, Father.”

McOnder peered at him, resolute. “I cannot allow a boy to be so set upon by grief that he points a gun at his own head. I cannot allow a boy to be without a home when his father worked so hard to place that very roof above him. Mr. Winters, you are the only man in this town who has the charity in his heart to help a boy like that.”

He was staring at the liquid amber in his glass, his fingers tapping against the polished wood in time with his stuttering heartbeat. The Alpha wasn't wrong. He'd done all those things and he'd done them because they were right and just and...and there was something else he gained. “Father, I did those things because those would help me solidify my stance here. My influence...”

“I don't care about why you did them. Doing them is enough for now. Save whatever your motives were for your confession when you give it to me.”

He set a soft glare upon him. “You say that as though it's inevitable.”

“It might be.”

“How do you think you're going to pay me for this? I hate talkin' to Tillegan... Not to mention, that bastard doesn't cut me any breaks...sees me as just as much his enemy as anyone else.” He leaned back in his chair, his brows set in a heavy frown. “Ain't never fucked a single girl. Ain't never set foot inside my damned business. Nearly never comes into Bridgeton himself. A real piece of shit.”

“Does he have a mate?”

“Hell if I know. Hell if anyone knows. Son of bitch barely shows his face...just sends his goons with all his money to buy goods...and the council don't give a shit as long as he's happy.”

“The men who work for him...they come to your establishment...”

“Yeah, they do,” he drawled out. “But they ain't my favorite. Don't treat the gals right and I've found a few of them to have stiffed 'em. Anyway, Father, that's not what this is all about.”

“You're right. This is about how charitable you can be, Mr. Winters. Can I count on you?”

He flattened his features, giving the Alpha a serious gaze before he looked around to make sure nobody was listening in. When he was satisfied, he leaned forward and lowered his tone. “I'll make you a deal, Father.”

“I thought you might say that.”

Saul grinned. “I am a little devil, after all.”

“Tell me what the deal is.”

“Kiss me.”

The priest raised his brows just slightly. “Now?”

“No, not now. Whenever I want...whenever people ain't lookin'. Whenever I can pull you into a dark corner.”

The priest leaned back in his seat, and picked up his wine, sipping it silently as his features evened out and his scent hardened into a unique displeasure. He wasn't refusing but he certainly wasn't happy with the suggested arrangement.

“Does your vow forbid you from kissin'?”

McOnder sucked in a breath through his nose and took another gulp of his wine before he nodded slowly. “A man engaged in romantic kissing would be cracking the edges of his vows, yes.”

“So you don't want me to buy the loan.”

“I feared that something like this might be your deal. But it is not unexpected. How many kisses will you take from me?”

Saul let out a little giggle. “You say that as if I'll ever let you stop. Or that you'll ever want me to.”

“There is a limit to a man's patience, Mr. Winters.” He said it in a very low and severe tone despite his quietude and there was no doubt that he was as serious as the grave. His scent was arrogant here, strong and mighty and unwavering. He was looking for a solid number.

“Fifty.”

“Then I counter that any kiss that involves an open mouth counts for five.”

“Three.”

“Fine. And I am the one who counts them.”

Saul couldn't help his wide grin as victory began to shine in his chest as a glowing shaft of light through forest trees. “I accept that, Father. Though do note that I will argue discrepancies if there are any.”

The Alpha was distinctly displeased and he finished his wine, setting the glass down upon the polished table. Despite this, there was a thread of something in his scent that almost smelled like a contentedness, a feathering of happiness. “When can you speak to Tillegan?”

“He's got a house a small way up the mountain. I'll send an offer with an Alpha and hope that when it comes back, it's not tripled.”

“I'll take it.”

“Father...”

The Alpha stared at him resolutely and all at once, he seemed to be the only good option among the dozens of Alphas who might have stood before the Alpha Tillegan. After all, he was the only man in the entire town who did not have something to lose by standing before him. He was the only man who appeared, at least, to have no reason to be corrupted. Though, Saul admitted to himself, if _he_ was able to corrupt a priest, why not Tillegan?

“Alright,” Saul replied softly. “Then this will be your real test. Tillegan is immune to pleas for mercy or goodness or righteousness. No morals or faith can touch him. He is a man like me but _Alpha_. What deal could you make with him?”

“I've made my deal. I merely stand before him as a agent of yours.”

“He'll want more than my money, Father.”

“We will see.”

The Omega reached out, sliding his fingers over the back of McOnder's hand where it rested on the table. He was warm and his skin was soft and he caught the Alpha's eyes. “Don't betray me, Father.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” The priest stood and Saul quickly finished his whiskey, leaving a few coins on the bar as he followed the man out into the hot sun again. “I will escort you home, Mr. Winters.”

“You don't need to—”

“It is not about what is necessary.”

He walked beside the priest then, casting soft glares toward those who looked at the both of them together as though daring them to say a word. A gentle shock disturbed him when he thought that they might dare claim that Father McOnder was any lesser for having been seen with him. For having drunk wine with him. For having been touched by him. As though the man were sullied already. He watched McOnder wait for a few geese to waddle across the road before them before he walked on and when Saul lingered behind, he admired the way the tall, broad-shouldered Alpha looked in his black vestments, his sash and rosary swaying at his side. He wondered what this impressive man might have looked like nude and he felt a sudden jealousy toward whomever could have stripped a boyish McOnder of his childhood purity.

The foyer of the chapel was dim and quiet though he could hear at least one girl upstairs very softly moaning for an afternoon engagement. It was only a small bit cooler inside and Saul gave pause, lingering in front of the door, his body tingling as he felt how distinctly alone he was with this man and his powerful, alluring scent.

His voice sounded as though it could not have come from him, husky and wanting. “You smell good, Father.”

McOnder was silent, his hands at his sides and a strange warmth in his eyes.

“I want to kiss you now...”

“The loan is not yet under your control.”

A vague hint of annoyance tugged at him. “You'll make me wait?”

A tiny smirk lifted the corner of the man's mouth and it was no less than infuriating. “ _'Be ye strong therefore, and let not your hands be weak: for your work will be rewarded.'_ ”

Saul came to him and took the front of his cassock in his hands and pulled him close. “Don't you quote scripture to me, McOnder. It don't mean shit here. If you're gonna say yes to kissin' a boy, then just let 'im kiss you.” He paused, his eyes on the Alpha's lips. “Let me...”

Strong, warm hands came to his upper arms and held him tightly, pushing him back until he let go of the Alpha's vestments. “Control yourself, Omega. I will let you...when the deal is done.”

He drew in another long breath of McOnder's scent and frustration lanced through him. He longed to break this Alpha. He longed to make him pant with need. He wanted to know that there was not a man in Bridgeton beyond the lure of him. “I'm going to break you, Father.”

“If you're serious then you will have to gather your strength for I was woven to endure.”

Saul let the man's grip fall from around him and, despite all the tension he could feel in the air of the foyer, he told the man to wait and he made up the note and put together an offer with a suitable amount of money the priest could take to make the deal. When he came back to the foyer, he could barely think beyond the man's powerful fragrance which had mingled with his own arousal and he brusquely gave him the parcel. “Go, then. But remember, McOnder...”

“You're a good man, Mr. Winters...even if there's a devil inside you.”

“I thought priests weren't allowed to lie.”

The Alpha let out a little chuckle, his smile wide and handsome as he turned and opened the door, for a moment haloed by the bright sunlight which poured within. “I don't lie, Omega. You'll see. You're not lost. You're not soiled. You're not anything they say you are. And you'll see that in time.”

When both the light and the priest were both gone, Saul stood in the foyer for some time, the atmosphere heavy around him while the Alpha scent drove him toward impossible memories of prairies covered in purple and orange wildflowers. _The creak of a wagon wheel as it moved over trails and strained through dirt and muck. The cry of a jay bird and the swoop of an eagle. Puffy white clouds faded out of a midsummer sky so blue...blue...blue..._

“Saul?”

He jumped a little bit, his hand over his heart when he turned around toward the archway to the sanctuary. Winnie stood at the side of it, eyeing him with a slight concern. His breath was shuddering. “Hey, girl.”

“Hey. You alright?”

“Y-yeah...yeah...”

“That priest, huh?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, wandering toward her. “That _fucking_ priest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The CHEMISTRY.
> 
> Enjoying it? Leave a comment! :D I know my westerns aren't usually as popular but boy do I have a weakness for them.


	5. Chapter 5

Winters had given him a reasonable amount to be paid for the house and he tucked it into the pocket of his cassock without delay, along with a small parchment letter upon which the Omega had written his permissions. Greyson understood the oddity of a prostitute and a preacher forming an unlikely partnership but stranger things had happened in the west. The day was getting on and with the instructions Calvin gave him, he understood that should he wish to find Tillegan's cabin before sundown, he'd best be off at once.

Mounting his gray mare, he steered her toward the end of town and was not stopped though the marshal did give him a nod. It was the only acknowledgment he got from men most days though the women of Bridgeton were far more welcoming. At first wary perhaps due to his Alpha status, the Beta wives and single women of the town often asked of him simple questions and sought to learn of his wisdom from travel. Ever since what had happened with Henry just a few days before, he had found himself gathering just a few listening ears on the inn's porch.

It was difficult to be such an outsider in a world so insulated but he saw their fear and he saw their trials so clearly through their eyes. They were afraid of Tillegan. They were afraid of the drifters who worked for Tillegan. Some of them were even afraid of _him_ for the threat of moral reason over that of hedonism was one of great issue. There was a fear of the unknown in Bridgeton and he felt that the roots of such a fear ran deep within the very fabric of the west. Dark mine shafts explored and the death that came from the depths—forests over mountains vast and mysterious. Sickness that ran rampant through the old and the young. The uncertainties of life here had left lasting scars over the psyches of those left behind.

He led his mare down the long path toward the base of the mountain and under the looming trees. Sounds of bird chatter and insects drowned out any of the residual sounds of humanity behind him and soon he was alone among them and a strange, seeping unease surrounded him as the dapples shimmered across the path before him. There was light soon and when he came into it, it was to be surrounded by the quietude of a slain section of forest where all that was left were the stumps of old trees and piles of spread sawdust choking the grasses which had come up under the sun. New life sought to break through into the light and saplings had begun already to burst forth but the silence of this ruination was pervasive.

The priest rode on.

In time he was under trees again and the unease had followed. An instinctual suggestion that there were eyes upon him, watching him from all angles as though some creature had found him interesting though not so much as to interfere with his progress. Something of the ethereal.

“' _Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; they rod and thy staff they comfort me..._ '”

His murmured snippet of prayer did not dispel the feeling that surrounded him but it eased his heart a little and his mare, Bonnie, nickered a little as she bobbed her head and kept moving, her ears flicking this way and that.

Soon, he heard the voices of men in the distance and the crash of trees as they came down though he could not see another patch of light. When he came to a fork in the path, he took the one that Calvin had told him to take, the left-most, and he followed it, aware that the sounds of working loggers were very much likely to have been sourced from the other direction. He rode until he reached a small pond upon which there were many waterfowl and upon the side of that pond was a grand cabin which was constructed of shaven logs. It was large and formidable with a decent fenced garden, a chicken coop, and several horses. Gray smoke curled lazily from a tin chimney poking up from the far side of the roof and all at once, Greyson found that the sensation of imminent danger was gone from this place, seeping away into the earth as though it could not follow here.

He dismounted Bonnie and tied her to a post in the front of the cabin meant for guests before he climbed upon the porch and knocked upon the door three times.

It opened readily.

“Mornin', Father.”

“Good morning. Are you a Mr. Tillegan?”

The Alpha was about as tall as Greyson, his beard thick and tinged with silver which offset the black of it and gave him a softer visage. “I'm Tillegan. You here to tell me a Bible story, Father?” He boomed out a little laugh. “Come in. Sit down. I'll get you some coffee.”

He entered to find an open design on the interior of the cabin, two hunting dogs lounging over a woven rug. It was cooler inside despite the low fire in the hearth, the windows open and a fine breeze tumbling through, disturbing the leaves of some of the small ferns placed in pots around the space.

“This is a fine abode you've crafted for yourself,” Greyson remarked, watching Tillegan prepare the coffee. “Do you ever feel alone out here?”

“Alone? What do you mean?”

“Lonely.”

The Alpha chuckled, his broad shoulders moving up in a shrug while his eyes crinkled with his amusement. He did not seem the sort of man that the villagers of Bridgeton made him out to be though looks could often be deceiving. “I suppose not. I have my dogs, and my horses and my mate.”

“You've a mate?” He looked around, his nose testing the air for another scent though he could not discern one beyond the lazy fire and cedar of Tillegan.

“Oh yes. My wife, Ilona. Did you not see 'er when you came? Sometimes she's in the garden though it is common for her to walk alone in the forest. I tell 'er about the bears but she just laughs at me. Tells me bears don't mind her none.”

Greyson felt a hard flood of unease in his heart and he filtered through his mind, trying to find any memory of seeing a woman along his path, in the woods, or in the garden when he glanced toward it. He shook his head slightly but Tillegan simply moved on.

“I s'pose you're here for a reason, Father.”

“I am.”

“Which Jesus story will you be impartin' on me? I heard about what you did in town. What you've been doin' here and there. I suppose you might think I'm the charitable type. That I might help you with somethin' like gettin' that church out from under Saul Winters' back.”

Greyson accepted the coffee that was offered to him, choosing to sip it hot and black while Tillegan cut his with a bit of cream. “I have sought the church but there is some resistance, that's true.”

“Well, there's only so much a man can stand for, Padre. Moral mumbo-jumbo isn't exactly something men want to think about when they're out here riskin' their lives for their pay. Saturday mass and Sunday services are more like a chore than much else and well...men like to know where to go for a little sin.” He snickered.

“I'm actually here for a wholly different matter, Mr. Tillegan. My business in Bridgeton has moved beyond the matter of the church, you see.”

The Alpha sipped his own coffee, settling himself down on a carved wooden chair adorned with moose antlers while Greyson sat across from him on a less ornate seat. “What might you mean, Padre? I thought a priest was just about neutered without 'is chapel.”

“Where I am has no bearing on what I do. I am in the business of charity and hope and the richness of the kingdom of God, Mr. Tillegan. My acts are not dependent upon place but only persistence and tenacity. I come to you with an offer to buy out a loan you hold.”

His dark eyes narrowed considerably as he regarded Greyson from the side. “And what loan do I hold that might spark your interest, Alpha?”

“That of a late Mr. Milton.”

He sniffed.

“To your pocket, that loan is a paltry sum, I understand. I have come to inquire as to your rate should an offer come to purchase it.” He sipped his coffee again and felt eyes upon him, that peculiar unease returning though different in some manner this time as he spied a darkness at the edge of one of the windows. When he looked fully at it, the edge of a shape moved away from his vision out of the window and his heart ticked up. Tillegan did not notice his disquiet.

“What's it about that house?”

“The late Mr. Milton did not have funds to bestow upon his son when he passed. If the house is taken, the boy will have nothing.”

“Ah. Charity and good will.”

He cleared his throat, flitting his eyes between the Alpha and the window. There was something outside. Something waiting for him to leave. He knew not why, but in his instinct he felt that it was hostile to him but it dared not approach.

Tillegan continued, his eyes still hard upon Greyson. “Your offer for the loan...I suppose it's penance and piss.”

“I understand that the amount left to be paid to you was around three hundred dollars. I am prepared to offer you three hundred and fifty.”

“Five hundred.”

“Three hundred and fifty,” Greyson replied easily, making steady eye contact with Tillegan in a challenge that would surely prickle him.

The Alpha growled, his teeth bared. “A priest pretending to be a businessman. We cannot all work beyond what is good for ourselves, Padre. Charity? Am I so easily swayed by the misfortune of those who are too weak to rise to my station? Am I to spare every mouse in my larder?”

“Three hundred and fifty, Mr. Tillegan. That is my offer.”

“A Catholic priest as well? Who's supplied these funds for you, Padre? Aren't the lot of you wandering around without a penny in your pockets? Who's dirty work are you really doin' here?”

“I do the Lord's work, Mr. Tillegan. I am saving a boy's life. Do you take the offer?”

“Five hundred or it's no deal. A boy's life should be worth that much to you, shouldn't it?”

Greyson brought his cup to his lips again and took a long draw of it, swallowing the warmth and savoring the bitterness on his tongue. “What else are you looking for, Mr. Tillegan? Do you demand so much because you cannot find a weakness in a holy man's armor? Because you cannot exploit me? I will hold hearts and minds, Mr. Tillegan. You can only hold their land and their fears.”

His dark, busy brows swooped down into a heavy glare. “You're a bold man, Padre.”

“One must be bold to sleep within the lion's den. I have faith, Alpha. What do you have?”

Tillegan gave pause, staring at Greyson with a look just shy of murderous before he set his cup down upon the wooden table before him. “Four hundred, _Priest_ , and another stipulation. You tell me whose money buys this favor of God.”

“Done.”

Reluctantly, the Alpha put out his hand and Greyson took it, the strong notes of dissatisfaction roiling through the electric air.

Greyson reached into his pocket and produced the money he'd been given, counting out four hundred onto the table before he folded the rest and then produced the parchment with Saul Winters' agreement upon it. Before he handed it over, he peered expectantly toward the Alpha. “The deed, sir?”

He grumbled, standing from his seat and moving to a desk tucked neatly into the corner of the cabin. Rifling about, he produced it and when Greyson was satisfied, he handed over the parchment, certain that the matter was not at all resolved.

The parchment crumpled in his huge fist. “So you're in league with him.”

“I am his enemy,” Greyson countered. “It's complicated. Thank you for your time, Alpha. I'll not pester you further...unless you wish for a Bible story?” He got up, tucking the deed for the land and house into his pocket. “ _'But to do good and to communicate forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.'_ ”

“Does Saul let you speak to him in verses, Padre?”

Greyson chuckled as he moved toward the door, his eyes again moving back to the window where he had seen the edge of darkness. “He told me that you were a man like him...but Alpha.”

“He's a little spider in a nest and I am the snake that will devour him.”

Greyson reached for the door but gave pause. “What drives your hatred of him, Mr. Tillegan? Is it just his influence?”

The Alpha sighed through his nose. “Padre, there's something I've always known to be true. That nature knows how to lay down her laws and man will work around them. An Omega with that much money...with that much fire...well that's just against nature.”

“You take issue with his very existence?”

“He's a boy who spits in the face of your God, Padre. You don't?”

He gave the man a thoughtful shake of his head before he opened the door and exited, looking around carefully to see if there might have been some presence. Some darkness. He saw nothing. The sun was lowering in the western sky and there was a fear just barely growing in his chest which he tamped down with a muttered prayer. With all his senses focused around him, he untied Bonnie's reins and mounted her, noting that she was just as nervous, her ears flicking as she pawed a bit at the ground, restless and wary.

“Yes, I know...” he told her as he turned her around to venture back through the forest. As he turned, he noticed a strangeness which called his eyes back to it. In the orange light of the sunset, he could see just far enough away toward a patch of thick wood the dark outline of a woman in black.

_Ilona._

Gooseflesh erupted over the Alpha's skin and he squeezed at Bonnie's sides with his legs to prompt her to move. Despite the grave disquiet in his heart, he raised his hand to greet the woman but she did not make a motion back. Uncomfortable in his saddle, he hurried Bonnie into a decent trot along the path, hoping that the unrest in his soul would be tempered by distance.

If he was honest with himself, it did not even begin to fade until he was back in Bridgeton, surrounded by those who greeted him with a vague familiarity. He could feel nervous sweat under his arms and he mopped at his face with his kerchief when he stopped before the church and tied Bonnie up again, petting her nose to thank her before he went inside.

“Father...” The husky Alpha tone of Mr. Townshend met him with surprise as he stood with an older Beta prostitute Greyson had come to know as Tess. “I wouldn't have expected you here...uhm...” He cleared his throat, uncertainly flashing a glance toward the woman who was giving Greyson a very put-upon expression.

Tess' voice was flat. “Upstairs, Father, last room on the right. He's alone. Just knock to make sure he's decent if it matters to you.”

“Thank you, Miss Tess,” he replied seriously, casting a cool glance toward Townshend. “Why should I not be found here, Alpha? Is this not a church?” He didn't wait for a reply, walking up the stairs with purpose and down the warm hall. A few of the girls were obviously busy, their bedframes making soft rhythmic squeaks and low masculine groans finding their way through the walls and the doors. The pleasant smell of Beta women was spiced with Alpha and sex and beyond them all was the potent sweetness of Winters which clung to nearly every surface. Greyson found the door and knocked upon it politely, his voice low and careful near the seam. “Are you dressed, Mr. Winters?”

“I am, Father.”

Greyson would not have called the Omega “dressed” when he opened the door and found him. He was clad only in a sheer, translucent white dressing gown which was not long enough to reach the floor and he was lounging in a chair by the window, his nude form clearly visible beneath the fabric. The Alpha tightened his mouth. “You may be wearing clothes but you are not at all decent.”

“Do I tempt you?” he teased, grinning as he toyed with a small bit of parchment in his fingers. “I was hot. You smell like you were as well...perhaps I have something laying around that might be more comfortable for you rather than all that black.”

“I will remain dressed, thank you.”

“How is Tillegan?”

“Obstinate but not unreasonable.” He reached into his pocket to produce the rest of the money and the deed to the property. “Here is the deed. We reached an agreement at four hundred dollars.”

Winters raised his brows sharply. “So little...”

“I must have been somewhat convincing. Do not worry, he did not ask me for anything. There was nothing I could have done to betray you. I will leave this deed with you until our deal is finished if you like.” He set it down on the surface of the vanity and then turned to leave but Winters bade him wait and so he turned again.

“Kiss me, Father.”

“I prefer to kiss you when you're wearing more clothes.”

“Are you truly tempted by me?” He shifted and Greyson allowed himself to take an eyeful of the boy's slender form through the sheer dressing gown; the paleness of his flesh and the pink of his nipples, the way the fabric bunched and only slightly obscured the dusky pink of his Omega manhood where it rested between his thighs, cushioned by a patch of dark russet curls. “The human body is only natural, ain't it? Why can't you kiss me like this?”

“Sin is only natural as well. One might suggest that what we men of the cloth do is unnatural. To deny basic instinct and pursue a life of little distraction toward the purpose of God.”

“I want to distract you, Father.”

“I know.”

The Omega snaked a hand down to his groin, cupping himself through the fabric. “What if I cover it up like this? So you don't have to see it?”

“It's the whole of you, Winters.”

“I don't think you're gonna have much luck getting me to wear a nun's habit every time I wanna collect my due.” He stood from his seat by the window and approached him. The gown was not tied with its silken sash and opened, revealing all of his soft flesh from the top of his head to his feet, golden in the sunset's light and dusted with freckles all over, the pattern thicker on his bridge of his nose, the curve of his shoulders, and the swell of his hips and thighs. He was a stunning example of an Omega and Greyson could feel himself growing hard. “I can smell your sin, Father...”

“Can ye?”

“Oh? Do you get more Irish when you can't think straight?” He was grinning, his sweet scent enveloping Greyson's senses as he came too close, his hands reaching up to feel over the Alpha's chest and slide up toward his shoulders. “Will you whisper sweet things to me if I kiss you senseless?”

“I'm a bit more controlled than that, boy.”

Winters didn't appear convinced and he placed a gentle pressure on Greyson's shoulders, urging him to lean. When he did, the Omega stood on his toes, pressing his soft, full lips over the Alpha's, his sweetness heady and his mouth knowledgeable and giving. The first kiss was soft and sweet and chaste, asking for response. The second was only a little more demanding and he could feel the boy's surprise when Greyson responded, kissing him back with just the barest of pressure.

“Mmm...you surprise me, Father...” he murmured, his hand moving against the priest's jaw. “I thought for sure you'd have me kissing a stone...”

“I told you I'm not an innocent.”

Winters let out a little chuckle and kissed him again, more assertive though still soft and cloying, teasing as though he had all the time and all the kisses in the world.

Greyson didn't move, letting the Omega do what he wished while he silently kept a tally in the back of his mind for each kiss bestowed. He thought himself beyond corruption though corruption was in every press of this boy's lips and so he relented to this, letting Winters tilt his head, politely moving to better assist his intimate onslaught. He liked kissing. He'd always liked kissing and he'd always liked Omegas. Memories of his youth spent in wild abandon, rolling around in hay-filled lofts fucking young sweet girls who'd just presented. Sex was something he rarely missed but closeness and warmth and that tender, willing sweetness was something he could never scrub completely out of his mind. Should Winters demand that he lay with him just to touch or caress, just to feel his heat...could he refuse? All that filled his mind beyond that little tally of kisses was how much he wanted to hold a warm body in his arms. How much he wished to find a connection with another human being. Someone who could know everything about him. Someone who could understand the plight of a man like him.

He was fully erect when Winters pulled away from him, a gentle nibble over his bottom lip a playful goodbye.

“You smell so good, Father...what I wouldn't give to get a peep under your clothes...to see what a big handsome tool you've got. It's a shame you don't put it to use...I bet it's impressive.”

He gazed at the Omega with a mild amusement and then straightened up to clear his throat. “Good evening, Mr. Winters.”

His mouth twitched as he gave pause and after a short breath of a moment he conceded, turning around wandering back toward his seat by the window, his hands pulling together his dressing gown. “Good evenin', Father.”

Art by Chris Enterline: Twitter: @artsyenterline


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER CONTENT WARNING: GRAPHIC/VIOLENT RAPE.**

Saul could see the stars outside his open window, the warm breeze fluttering the lace curtains as he lay in his bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Maxwell Kelborn, a ranch hand, was beside him doing the same. The ranch hands and the logging men were usually young and boasted the best stamina. The older men who were a bit softer around the middle were easier for Saul and the girls. Maxwell was big with defined abdominal muscles and big biceps. He was the only one of Saul's customers who'd ever broken his bed and also the only one who he could count on to pay for it without being asked.

“My lord...” Max breathed, bringing a hand up to his forehead. “I ain't ever got wrung out so hard in my life. What's gotten into you today, Saul? You're like an animal.”

He turned his head to Max's face. Relatively handsome but no prize-winner. “Maybe I'm just havin' a good day.” He couldn't tell the man that there was a very distinct fantasy in his head he was playing out when he was getting fucked. A fantasy involving a particular priest. When he was panting and sighing and scratching his nails down Max's back, in his head he was getting spread open and violated by a man devoted to the cause of _not_ violating.

_I am just odd in the head._ He could acknowledge that, at least.

“Well goddamn, Saul. I sure am glad I decided to come see you when you were havin' a good day then.” His big hand raked through his hair. “I don't have enough money to spare to stay with you the rest of the night but I wish I did now.”

Saul laughed and turned toward him, touching him sweetly and leaning on his chest to peer down into his eyes. “Well maybe next time you'll get lucky again.”

A warmth settled into the Alpha's eyes and he reached up, gently petting over Saul's cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You are so beautiful, Saul...I wish I was a rich man so's I could take care o' you.”

“If I had a bit for every time a man said that to me, Mr. Kelborn, I wouldn't be on my back.”

Max grinned. “I know, I know, you don't need savin'. But god you're beautiful...I just like to think that one day someone's gonna do right by you, Omega. And I wish that man could have been me...but I'm too poor for your tastes.”

“There are a lot of men who are too poor for my tastes.” _And one man who swore a vow of poverty and despite that, I want him. I want to taste him and bite him and sully him. I want to see him fall at my feet and I want to make him choke on me and hold me and love me..._

_Love me..._

Saul didn't get up, choosing only to settle the sheet over himself as Max got up to pull on his trousers and his shirt, looking around to gather up his things. He smelled good. Like a pine forest and the cold of an autumn rain. Max would be a good Alpha to someone. Gentle, soft, and stronger than a bear. When he had all his clothes back on, he reached into his pocket and produced a half a bit. This ranch hand was used to that by now and so Saul got up and took it from him, letting the Alpha's hand hold his back while he was kissed one last time.

“Mmm, I best go before I spend all my food money on another round...” he mumbled against Saul's lips, his voice husky and lust-filled. “You're just too sweet, Saul...”

“Yeah, yeah...when you go downstairs, send the next one up.”

“You ain't gonna change the sheets?”

“I like your stink.”

Max sniffed out a laugh. “Yeah but your next man won't.”

“Then he shoulda gotten here earlier.”

The ranch hand was gone then and Saul settled himself back down, naked and tangled up in his good-smelling sheets. It was nice when the Alphas smelled so damned nice. There were some he didn't care for in the least but Max had a handsome scent and so he rolled in it, lamenting that he could not just sleep right now with it all around him.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Three times. It almost sounded the way Father McOnder knocked upon his door and for a moment his heart was in his throat.

“Enter.”

It was not Father McOnder.

He was up in a moment, sliding off the opposite side of the bed, the sheets still tangled about his waist. “Tillegan.”

The Alpha's thumbs were hooked over his belt, his gun in a holster and dangling from his hip. The scent of him was strong and wild despite the gray in his hair. A fire. A smolder. The scent of scorched earth and pressured steam. There was a darkness in his eyes that was unfamiliar. “You didn't expect to see me here, did you Winters?”

“Get out.”

“Now, now, that's no way to treat a customer.”

“You're nothing to me...so get out.” His nervousness was rising, the soft bite of some kind of danger prodding the back of his mind.

“You had a preacher come to me. He bought a loan from me. What are you doing here, Winters? What's gotten into you? Are you trying to buy up some real estate? Expand your influence?” He scoffed. “You already have as much influence as your little asshole can afford you...you need more?” Tillegan reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, tossing it on the bed. “That's your money, Winters. Do you want it back? All you gotta do is let me fuck you and you can have it. That'll be easy for you, won't it? You do it all the time with whatever wastrels drag themselves into this disgusting pile of shit.”

Saul stared at the cash on the bed, his back against the wall next to the window and the sheets held tight over his groin.

“Look at you,” Tillegan muttered. “You're a fucking pathetic little piece of nonsense. Cowerin' against the wall like some puppy dog what pissed on the bed. Take my money. That's what you do, innit? You take money and you fuck for it. I seem to remember a long time ago when you used to like getting' fucked within an inch o' your life by me. Do you remember that, Winters? I do. I remember a lot of shit you used to let me believe.”

When Tillegan moved, it was with purpose and Saul went to step toward his nightstand where a gun was hidden the drawer. He didn't make it, tripping over the sheet that was tangled around his legs. He fell into the corner, a weak cry escaping him before it was cut off by Tillegan's big hand around his throat hauling him up until he was on his tip-toes, the sheet falling away entirely.

The Alpha held him close, his hand tight and allowing only sips of breath. His voice was strange, animal, almost other-worldly. “You're a vile little whore, Saul. You chose this path and I'm gonna let you live it. A man brings you money and you take him to your bed. Ain't that how it goes?”

Tillegan's hand was big enough that he could hold him from the front and let his fingertips press into the back, the action rendering Saul's body limp. Despite his anger that a man would ever do this to him, every tension in his muscles dropped and he felt like a doll, his mouth hanging open. It wasn't like this for every Omega. Some could prevent it from happening or even by the force of will break the power of that grip. But Saul could do no such thing and so he could only make soft sounds of despair as he was manipulated, pressed face down on the bed while Tillegan unfastened his trousers with his other hand.

“ _Uhhhhnnn...uhhhuhh!_ ”

“You want to argue now? I think I've heard enough arguments out of you. The fucking audacity of sending a man of God to do your dirty work for you. _Have you no shame, whore? None?!_ ” He pressed his thick cock against Saul's already-wet entrance, left over lubricant and Max's come mixed and dripping.

“ _Uuuuhhhh! Nnnuuhhhh!”_

Tillegan penetrated him with one powerful thrust, his free hand holding Saul steady by his hip as he pounded heavily into him, the Alpha's breath hot on the back of his ear while he panted out his growled words.

“ _You're worthless. All this money you make and it's just because you've got a tight little boy cunt they can't help but fuck. You used to be so pretty, Saul. You used to be such a beautiful little boy all trussed up for me and now you're just a used up piece of shit covered in a hundred Alphas' come. Are you proud of this, Omega? Are you proud you made yourself into what you are?_ ”

He couldn't move, his arms uselessly flopped onto the bed and his head to the side, drool soaking into the sweat-damp top sheet while he was brutally violated. He couldn't think beyond what might happen after the pain and the horror was over. Sometimes the easiest part was surviving and the most difficult part was living with it.

“ _Nnnuuuuh!_ ” His voice was weak and low and overcome by the savage slapping of their bodies together behind him. The hand on his throat squeezed a little tighter and his breath was cut, his face growing hot while he sputtered and choked. His focus faded in and out of black, his eyes finding the folded bills in a messy pile nearby.

_Four hundred dollars. Is that what my life is worth? Or is Tillegan right? Am I...worth nothing?_

He could imagine it, as blackness faded in again and his lungs struggled uselessly, panic like a vague notion beyond the squeeze of his neck—his body lifeless and cold in his bed. Found in the morning by Tess when she came to see about his bath. Half on and half off the bed, bluish and crusted with spend and sweat. Who would mourn him?

_Father..._

The priest standing at his fresh grave...his gray eyes dull and his severe mouth downturned.

_Is he sad? Or does he just pity my Godless soul?_

Saul gurgled uselessly, on the verge of losing consciousness when his throat was suddenly released and a huge whooping breath filled his lungs while Tillegan grabbed his hips with both hands and dragged him until he could feel the Alpha pressing as deep as he could go. So deep it was painful.

The Alpha growled hard and loud when he came and in the aftermath of his orgasm he breathed his vicious words. “I want this to drip out of you all night, Saul. I want you to remember this in your bathwater in the morning.” Before he pulled out, he hauled the Omega up with a painful jerk of his hair, his body still limp from the after effect of the neck squeeze. “ _I want you to remember this, whore. I want you to think twice before you try to work me over. You know who I am and what I can do to you and there ain't nothin' in the world what's gonna stop me if I want to._ ” Tillegan threw him down against the bed hard before he gave him a cruel and stinging slap against his thigh and fastened up his trousers. “Next time I have to come in here, Saul, you're gonna get more than just a fuckin'. Do you hear me?”

He couldn't respond, his throat on fire and his body aching as he curled on the top sheet, come leaking out of him already while the blistering scent of an angry Alpha seethed around the room.

“Don't make me come back here, Saul. Don't make me hurt you again. You know I will. And I ain't got no pity for a bitch like you.”

It was the last thing he said before Saul heard the door open and shut, the latch sounding much too loud in the quiet of the room beyond the buzzing in his ears. Strength was coming back to him by inches and the first thing he did when he could move his arm was reach out toward the money, his fingers fanning it to find all four hundred dollars. He let it sit where it was, allowing his body to rest for a few moments before he shakily rose, his mind reeling. He stumbled to the basin and vomited, his stomach heaving violently as dizziness descended.

When that was finished, his whole body trembled and he reached for a dark black and gold silk dressing gown thrown over the back of a nearby chair. He struggled to get it on, his stomach still roiling while his rump and his thigh stung mightily. For a few moments, he stood next to the door, his head against the wall as he fought the notion that he was going to vomit once more. Finally, after long moments composing himself, he tied his dressing gown shut and opened the door. He didn't remember how he walked down the stairs or how he even heaved the heavy chapel doors open to the outside. He didn't remember the rocks that stung his feet in the dirt street and he didn't remember much of the words flung at him while he went. He found his way to the inn, stumbling through the entrance and standing awkwardly on the dusty carpet just inside while the innkeeper marveled at him.

“Mr. Winters...”

His voice was weak and raspy, no more than a breath. “ _P-Priest..._ ”

The innkeep didn't even have to call for him. It was as though the Alpha had felt him arrive, the dark black of his form suddenly appearing on the stairs, his motions quick and through instinct as he came to Saul and caught him as he fell forward.

The priest's voice and scent were like a balm to him and his tightened stomach loosened all at once as he was held.

“Omega...you're bleeding.” His tone then shifted. “Calvin, my room. Fresh towels, if you will.” McOnder's strong arms took him, lifting him easily until he was laid down again in a bed that smelled so much like the handsome preacher Saul could have wept.

_The haze of summer over the vastness of the wild. Bison in the distance as black spots in the prairies while the huge shadows of clouds rolled slowly over the flowers. A hot wind from the southwest with the smell of the earth and the heavens entwined and the cracks of stray lightning descended from the coil of a midday storm cloud..._

“ _Alpha..._ ” he tried, his voice and his body still weak.

“Don't move, Winters. You're alright. Who's done this to you?”

He didn't answer, knowing that it would not make a difference if he did. Instead, he let his head loll to the side upon McOnder's pillow, breathing in the gentle comfort of his scent while the soft weight of safety soothed his fraught mind. He paid no attention to the goings-on around him, only vaguely aware that McOnder was touching him, that he was looking at him in vulnerable places, and yet he felt so calm, even when he felt the man's fingers sweeping over the welted flesh on his thigh from Tillegan's slap.

“You're alright,” the priest said again. “Just a little rough tonight. Take your rest, little one.”

In time, he smelled a Beta but he didn't open his eyes, hearing the voice of the priest with that of a woman and he was cleaned between his legs and all over before he was tucked into the bed and enveloped with sheets that smelled just like his priest.

_My priest._

It was dark. It was warm. There was a man with him but not against him and he felt at peace for once in his life. He didn't realize he slept until he woke and the barest light of morning was creeping in from the sunrise through the curtains. McOnder was next to him, slouched in a cushioned chair with a knitted blanket over him to his chin as though someone had laid it on him while he slept. Saul could feel the sensitive flesh on his thigh and the sting of his ass when he shifted which made him wince.

_You're bleeding._

So the bastard had raped him hard enough to rip him, he thought darkly as he swallowed, gauging the pain in his throat. He shifted to his side, facing McOnder, watching the man's face while he breathed deeply in his sleep.

Saul reached out tentatively until he could touch the priest's hand where it rested on the arm of the chair and watched him slowly come awake, blinking away his slumber until his attention was upon the Omega.

“Winters—”

His voice was still raspy but held more substance. “Saul...please...”

McOnder gave pause for a moment before he nodded. “Saul. How are you feeling?” His eyes were pensive, his expression more serious than usual.

“I want you to hold my hand.”

This conjured a soft smirk out of the severe preacher and his hand was held. McOnder wasn't finished with him. “Can you tell me who's done this to you?”

“It won't matter.”

“It might.”

He sniffed. “I don't want to talk about it. I want you to kiss me.”

McOnder peered at him through the darkness, his eyes shining with the soft light of the sunrise which strengthened every moment in the gap of the curtains. “I hardly think it the time, little one. There is something you should know...”

“You can tell me after you've kissed me...I want your comfort.”

The priest blinked, taking a second to think on it before he pulled the cushioned chair closer and reached to very delicately cradle Saul's head with his free hand, his fingers gently filtering through the hair that Tillegan had pulled so harshly. He felt arousal pooling between his legs despite all the ache in his body and when the Alpha's lips found his, he immediately tingled, the sensation that of the autumn sun revealed by the clouds and instantly warming the flesh. He reached for the Alpha's jaw, stroking the growth there and encouraging his sweet responses as Saul kissed him and willed whatever evil had touched him to go at the behest of this priest's intimate blessing. They were not teasing kisses but comforting and passive and ones that he knew he could seek again. They were _safe_.

When he allowed McOnder to pull away, the man did not sit up but remained leaning forward, his jaw still against Saul's hand, the whiskers scratching and tickling his palm.

“Saul...I have to tell you something.”

“Your eyes tell me that I won't want to hear it.”

“I'm sorry, little one...”

He could already feel a deep panic welling in his chest. He already knew what the Alpha would tell him before it even left his lips. Tears wetted his eyes and an anguish filled him.

“ _One of your girls...Miss Tess...she's been murdered..._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Saul. :'(


	7. Chapter 7

Greyson had known fear. In the mountains and in the prairies where the trains stopped rolling on and one was left with wagons or horses, he'd known what it meant to be truly afraid. He'd seen pox-ravaged villages and settlements. He'd seen the aftermath of grisly murders. He'd seen the never-ending void of darkness that threatened his very soul with oblivion. But the prick of fear he'd felt the previous night when he found Saul Winters bleeding into the inn's carpet was unlike any of those. It was thrumming and insidious. It crawled up into the back of his mind and it coiled there and waited and there was no telling when it would strike him again.

He was standing on the porch when the marshal climbed the steps and stopped at one from the top, staring up at Greyson while he leaned against the support beam. “I suppose you've got somethin' to say about all this.”

“He was raped, Marshal.”

“He's a prostitute, Padre.”

Greyson eyed the man dispassionately. “If he did not consent to the act, then he was raped. Regardless of whether or not money exchanged hands.”

The lawman shook his head. “If he took the money, then he gave his consent.”

“I disagree. The woman?”

“You already know about that...there ain't much more I can tell yeh. She's been done in alright.”

“Could it have been done by the same Alpha who raped Saul?”

Embry took in a hard breath through his nose. “I suppose it could have been done by damned near anyone. Since we didn't find her until after that whole episode was over...”

“But the body was warm when you found it.”

“And the blood still flowin'. You sayin' you want a timeline or somemat?” He scratched his head beneath his hat. “You know somethin' Padre? That I don't?”

“No. I think you know as well as I do that the man who raped Saul was Tillegan.”

Emery's mouth twitched down on one side and his gaze moved from Greyson to the wooden boards of the porch. He couldn't deny it. Anyone who had met the Alpha for more than just a few moments should have been able to recognize the scent which clung to Saul's skin, prominent over that of another Alpha—one not so mired by hatred. The marshal nodded after a moment. “We didn't find that scent on Miss Tess. Best we got from her was the smell of dynamite.”

“Dynamite?”

“Nothing else on her. She got roughed up a bit but there ain't no soot, dirt, or anythin' else. Just a jagged wound and terrified eyes.”

Greyson leaned on the banister, his eyes on the sunrise as it cast long shadows through the orange light. “You've seen plenty of the dead, Marshal...tell me if it looks like a man killed her.”

“You want me to tell yah if it was a man or a monster, you mean? Well, maybe I can't do that, Padre. Maybe it was a bit o' both.”

“Are you going to talk to Tillegan?”

Embry took the last step to climb onto the porch, his heels dragging until he sat himself down in one of the chairs. He took his hat off his head and placed it on the banister, running a hand through his hair to mess it up a bit. “Padre, I don't know how to explain this to yah. So I'll tell you a little story.” He cleared his throat and reached into his pocket, beginning to roll himself a cigarette as he spoke. “Bridgeton was settled not too long ago by some poor idiot who found a nugget in the river nearby. At first, it was just him and his horse and soon it was him and his horse and a few other guys who were a bit tougher and a bit meaner. There wasn't much gold in that river. In fact, so little that it didn't really make sense that Bridgeton was here at all. But they found other things to do like mining one of those little salt mines that's not too far away from here.” He paused for a moment to lick his paper and seal it, placing it in his mouth and searching his pockets for his matches. “A young man heard about Bridgeton and its proximity to the mountains and he got a loan from his father and he gathered up his bravado and his business partner and they made their grueling way out west. They went off to find their dreams.”

Greyson turned around, crossing his arms as he moved a bit to lean on the beam and watch Embry smoke. “This is the tale of Tillegan...what happened to his partner?”

“You know what happened to his partner,” the marshal grunted. “Halfway through the prairie, that Beta partner presented as an Omega. Naturally, as an Alpha, Tillegan was there to help him. Trouble was, that partner didn't have quite the same thoughts over what was gonna happen after they got to Bridgeton. He thought he was still a partner, and Tillegan thought he was fit to be a mate.”

Greyson let out a sigh through his nose. “So when Saul wanted his independence...”

“Tillegan took offense. He fancied himself in love and didn't consider that Saul was the same person after he presented as he was before. There's a grave misunderstanding that happens sometimes, Padre—that a tiger changes stripes after that first heat hits. And you and I both know how dangerous that fallacy can be.” He smoked, flicking the end of his cigarette to rid it of the ash. “Saul and Tillegan are the same breed of man. Tillegan was just the one with all his daddy's money. He set up the logging business and left Saul to fend for himself. Left him with nothing but the shirt on his back in a town that didn't know him from Adam. So Saul did what he had to do to survive and found out he was damned sure good at it.”

“He needs protection.”

“He had protection up until just about seven months ago. Fellow by the name of Bo. Good man, good heart.”

“What happened to him?”

“Nobody knows that. Just one day, Bo was gone. Saul asked me to look around for him and I did. Never saw that Alpha again. All his things were still in his room at the bedhouse. All his money, all his tobacco...but no Bo. No ranch hand has agreed to take his place and I think it's just because somebody out there thinks that Saul got rid of him...”

“Why would they think that?”

Embry shrugged. “There was talk he was a bit rough with the girls after a few drinks but that's just talk.”

“What do _you_ think?”

“I think somebody got rid of 'im. But it sure wasn't Saul.”

Greyson nodded. He felt as though the creeping darkness of the wood was not simply content to stay where it was camouflaged and well-hidden. It stepped through the night in Bridgeton without consequence and it was _hungry._ There weren't many options for him. “You went to Saul's room, did you not?”

The marshal nodded. “Four hundred dollars was on the bedspread. Tillegan paid him.”

“Four hundred was the amount he paid for the rest of the loan on Henry Milton's house. Tillegan took offense...”

“From what I understand, Padre, it ain't difficult for Tillegan to take offense.”

A heat lanced through the Alpha's heart and he felt an anger he sought to quell. “Hmm...for all the thoughts I'm having toward him right now, I think I'll be spending the rest of my morning on Hail Mary's. Might I take a look at the body, Marshal? Miss Tess might have more to tell us than we think.”

“She's dead, Padre...what do you think she's gonna say?”

He passed a little smile to the Alpha, humoring him a bit. “Maybe her spirit will speak to me. What about the other girls?”

“They're terrified. And they ain't got nothin' to say about it. They do need protection, Padre. But there ain't a man here who's gonna give it to them. He'd have to live there...eat there...keep tabs on where all the girls were. Bo was a herder but he wasn't as tight with 'em as they need. Who do you think's gonna be able to give them the sort of protection they need?”

Greyson met his eyes and there was a silence between them as the meaning of his gaze dawned.

“Oh. You mean... _you_.”

“Of course I mean me. I'm an Alpha.”

“You're a priest.”

Greyson let the side of his mouth tick up before he turned around and entered the inn, slowly climbing the stairs until he reached his room where Saul's calmed scent softly fell over him as a sweet veil. The Omega had endured a brutal act of violence and a terrible shock and so he was lying beneath the covers and staring off toward the window. The priest came to him and sat in the nearby chair again. “Saul...”

He didn't turn his head.

“Saul...please let me help you. I'm sorry for all of this. It's my fault.”

“No it isn't.” His voice was still raspy, a bruise forming a crude ring around his neck. “If I hadn't wanted him to know that it was me, I wouldn't have sent you with my letter. I wanted to...I wanted to know if he would set aside his pride for me...like he never did before.” He let Greyson have a sardonic grin. “I guess the answer to that is obvious now. You knew it was Tillegan...but you asked me last night who'd done it...”

“I didn't know at first...but the scent...”

“Father, you can't stop him. He's too powerful. The council...he's got them all under his thumb.”

“As do you, I've discovered.”

Saul sniffed out a little laugh. “It's a tug of war between us. It's complicated. He doesn't really want to hurt me.”

“What do you call this?”

He was quiet for a time, just breathing with him while he lay in the bed, his red hair tousled and the whole of him looking rather rumpled and sorry. He didn't have any of his languid, sensual facade here and instead of appearing as a ripe and delicious Omega, he was more a humbled and crushed little flower. Greyson wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to bring a flush to his cheeks and rouse within him his irksome spirit.

Instead, the Alpha cleared his throat. “Embry and I have been talking. We've agreed you and the girls need protection. He told me about Bo. You cannot deny that you would be aided by an Alpha...you've had one before.”

Saul blinked but didn't look at him. “You think it's going to be that easy? To install yourself in my church without paying your due?”

“How did you know I was going to suggest myself?”

“Because I'm not a fool, Father.”

He smiled. “It is not as though I'm suggesting I change anything about what's going on there. After all...I still would not have slept with you. O' course...if you did manage to seduce me, I suppose that matter is still open...” He let himself laugh. “If you did still want to seduce me, that is. I'd be willing to sleep in the lion's den.”

Saul looked at him then, a pensiveness in his expression that was difficult to parse. “And how is a priest supposed to protect me?”

“Don't underestimate me, Saul. I'm an Alpha and a man and beyond all that, I've got a higher power behind me.”

“You're an Alpha and a man...and with each day I'll wear you down until you're begging at my door.”

Greyson chuckled. “Who is it who asks for kisses now? Who is it who will ask for more?”

The Omega's brows dipped into a glare and his mouth into a frown. “If you're so damned sure of yourself, feel free to take up the room. It's empty anyhow.” Tears clouded his voice. “I'm not sure how many o' my rooms are gonna be filled after all this...”

“I'm not going to let anything happen to you or the rest of the girls, Saul. There's something going on here and I'm damned well going to stop it.”

“You and God, huh?”

“That's right. Me and God.”

“Fine. We'll see what God does for me. If he might put you between my legs...”

Greyson laughed softly. “Keep your praying up, Saul. Maybe He'll take mercy on ye.”

Content when Saul's freckled cheeks gained a ruddy pinkish color, the priest got up and left, out to the porch where he found the marshal was still waiting for him. They went off to Embry's jailhouse and Greyson followed him across the creaking boarded floor to the carved stone stairs that led into the basement. It was cold but dry and Tess' body was shrouded in an old white sheet, places upon it flowered with sticky maroon blood.

He approached and carefully removed the sheet, finding that no one had closed her eyes. He crossed himself, whispering a light prayer before he examined her throat which had been cut. Though, he admitted to himself, it looked less like it had been cut and more like it had been _torn_. _Somewhere between the work of an animal and a man_. He hummed a bit as he examined the rest of her, finding three tears in the belly of her corset that had produced three perfectly parallel wounds.

“Three...” he mused aloud.

“What's that, Padre?”

“Three cuts here. For no reason. And they're almost perfect...”

“He's a sick son of a bitch, whoever he is. He probably wanted to hear her scream.” The marshal approached, his hand coming out to very gently brush his thumb along her hair. “God...Tess... This place was a shit hole before that bedhouse showed up...”

“You'd rather a bedhouse than a chapel?”

“You don't know what a town is like without strong women in it, Padre. And there ain't no women stronger than whores. I'll take that right to God. I believe it with my whole heart.” His thumb stroked over her hair again, a surprisingly tender gesture from a U.S. Marshal. After a short time, he moved his hand over her eyes and shut them with a sigh.

“But no one heard her scream,” Greyson provided thoughtfully. “You said the ranch hand, Luke...he found her when he went to make water after drinking in the saloon.”

“That's right.”

“Then these wounds must not have been to make her scream...”

“You think there's something else here, Padre?”

“I can't say for sure.” Three wounds sometimes was the mark of a mockery but he could not explain to a man who did not come from the church. He was reminded of the darkness in the forests. The presence that seemed just a hair away from the corner of the eye. “There's something wrong about Tillegan, Marshal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you don't take much stock in superstitions and you don't seem the type to put faith in feelings. But when I went to speak with him...there was something terrible odd about those woods. I'm wonderin', Marshal...have you ever met his mate?”

“His mate?”

“He called her Ilona.”

“I've never met any mate.”

A cold descended over him that was far more frigid than the air of the dim basement around them and he recalled the dark form of her. Standing too-still at the edge of the trees. Watching him. Watching him. _Watching him._

He whispered to himself as they left together, the cold lingering in his heart.

“' _The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?'”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon my forgetfulness _again_. My poor kitty is at the vet on a feeding tube. So you can imagine I was very distracted yesterday. :[


End file.
